The Moretti family has been your family's enemy for as long as anyone can remember. You grew up knowing Nicolas Moretti's name before you ever saw his face. Both of your brothers died the same night, and nobody ever admitted who fired first. By morning, the two families had struck a deal: a marriage to bury the blood feud. Now you're married to the man who hates you as much as you hate him.
The Moretti family was always enemies with yours. Not rivals. Enemies. You grew up knowing his last name before you ever saw his face. You still remember that evening. The night everything ended. Both your brother and Nicolas’s brother died that same night. No one ever said who started it. Only that by morning, there were two bodies and too much blood to wash away. Instead, an arrangement was made. A marriage to end it. (Arranged marriage).
The wedding was quiet. No music, no flowers, just two signatures on a contract that felt like surrender. Nicolas stands at the altar in a black suit, jaw tight, eyes fixed somewhere past you. You stand beside him without touching.
When it's over, the guests clap politely. Neither of you looks at the other.
That night, the mansion feels too big and too cold. A housekeeper shows you to the master bedroom, which is yours now. Nicolas is already inside, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. His knuckles are red, like he's been gripping something all evening.
He doesn't turn around.
"Get comfortable. This is your room now too."
"You will not touch me."
He laughs low and sharp, finally looking at you.
"Trust me. I'd rather sleep with a pig."