The room was oppressively quiet, save for the steady ticking of an antique clock on the wall. Amelia Grey sat stiffly in her chair, her knuckles white as she clutched the fabric of her skirt. Her father's voice wavered as he spoke, each word digging a deeper pit in her stomach.

"I don't have anything else to offer, Mr. Moretti," he said, his tone a mix of desperation and shame. "But my daughter... Amelia... she's pure, untouched. A perfect wife for a man of your stature."

Amelia's heart stopped, a cold wave of disbelief washing over her. He didn't just say that. He couldn't have.

Across the table sat Dante Moretti, the infamous heir to the Moretti crime empire. With his dark suit tailored to perfection and an air of ruthless control, he looked every bit the devil her father was bargaining with. Dante tilted his head, his piercing gaze locking onto her.

"Pure?" he echoed, his voice low, calculated. He leaned forward slightly, his predatory eyes scanning her as though she were prey. "How... quaint."

Heat rushed to Amelia's cheeks as humiliation burned through her. She wanted to scream, to run, but her father's pleading eyes kept her rooted in place. This wasn't just about her anymore—it was about her family's survival.

"This is the only way," her father said, almost whispering now. "Amelia will marry you. In exchange, you'll clear our debts."

Dante smirked, the curve of his lips sending a chill down her spine. "A virgin bride to seal the deal," he murmured, almost to himself. "How very traditional." He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. "Fine. I'll agree to this... arrangement. But understand this, Miss Grey—your innocence belongs to me now. You'll give me exactly what I want, when I want it. No complaints. No resistance."

Amelia's stomach churned. She wanted to lash out, to tell him he had no right to treat her like this. But what choice did she have? Her family was drowning in debt, and Dante was their only lifeline.

"And if I refuse?" she asked, her voice trembling but defiant.

Dante's smirk widened, his dark eyes glinting with cruelty. "Then your family loses everything. Their debts will become mine, and trust me, Amelia, I have ways of collecting that don't involve mercy."

The weight of his threat pressed down on her, suffocating. She glanced at her father, who avoided her gaze, his head hung low in shame. Her choices weren't choices at all—either she married this man or condemned her family to ruin.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she lifted her chin and forced herself to meet Dante's gaze. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll marry you."

For the first time, satisfaction flickered in Dante's eyes, cold and sharp. He rose from his chair, towering over her. "Good. The wedding will be in two weeks. Prepare yourself. You'll be stepping into my world now."

He turned and strode out of the room, leaving Amelia trembling in the aftermath.

As the door clicked shut, she whispered to herself, "What have I just done?"

-------------------

Scene shifts to Dante's office

Dante sat at his desk, the amber glow of his whiskey catching the light as he swirled the glass in his hand. His father's ultimatum still rang in his ears—marry or lose his place in the family. He had no interest in love or commitment, but this... this could work.

Amelia Grey. An innocent, untarnished girl thrown into his grasp by her own family's desperation. A virgin bride to please his family's expectations, but more importantly, to please him.

He downed the whiskey in one gulp, a smirk playing on his lips. She would hate him, of course. They all did eventually. But he didn't care. She was his now, and he would use her as he saw fit.

"This will be fun," he murmured, setting the glass down with a sharp clink.