Chapter 2 - The Secret He Never Expected
I barely slept.
At six in the morning, I heard Niko's phone ringing.
He answered in the living room.
"Talk."
His voice changed.
The warmth from the previous night vanished.
"Where?"
Pause.
"How many?"
Another pause.
"Keep him alive."
I sat up.
Niko entered the bedroom moments later.
He was wearing a black shirt.
His expression was unreadable.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"That sounded like nothing?"
He stared at me.
"You ask too many questions."
"And you lie too easily."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Careful."
"Why?"
"Because you're my wife."
"And?"
"I don't want you involved."
"Then stop making your problems impossible to ignore."
For several seconds, we stared at each other.
Then his phone rang again.
He answered.
"Yes."
A man's voice came through loudly enough for me to hear.
"They found the warehouse."
Niko's expression hardened.
"Who?"
"Police."
He hung up.
I froze.
"You're going to jail."
He almost smiled.
"Not today."
He grabbed his coat.
"Stay here."
"You can't order me around."
"I can."
"Try."
He looked at me.
Then something unexpected happened.
He laughed.
Just once.
It transformed his face.
"You really are stubborn."
"And you're arrogant."
"I'll be back."
He left.
I spent the morning exploring the penthouse.
It was beautiful.
But everything felt controlled.
Security cameras.
Locked doors.
Private elevators.
Even the kitchen staff seemed nervous.
At noon, Stella called.
"Are you alive?"
"Technically."
"Did he hurt you?"
"No."
"Did you—"
"No."
Silence.
"Elena."
"What?"
"You're married to Niko Santoro."
"I know."
"You have to tell him."
My heart tightened.
"Tell him what?"
Stella lowered her voice.
"You know."
I did.
The secret.
I had never been with a man.
Not because I believed in purity or because my father had raised me to be sheltered.
I simply had never trusted anyone enough.
There had been opportunities.
There had been relationships.
But every time a man wanted something from me, I sensed it.
Money.
My father's influence.
My name.
My body.
I had waited.
For someone who would see me before wanting anything from me.
And now I had married the most dangerous man in New York.
That evening, Niko returned.
His knuckles were bruised.
I noticed.
"You've been fighting."
"No."
"Your hand disagrees."
He removed his watch.
"It's nothing."
I walked toward him.
"Sit."
He looked amused.
"You're giving me orders now?"
"Sit."
He did.
I found a first-aid kit.
He watched as I cleaned the cuts.
"You don't have to do that."
"I know."
His eyes stayed on my face.
"Why are you so different from what I expected?"
I paused.
"What did you expect?"
"Someone spoiled."
I smiled.
"Disappointed?"
"Very."
I taped his knuckle.
Then stood.
He caught my wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop me.
His eyes searched mine.
"Elena."
"What?"
"Why are you afraid of me?"
I didn't answer.
He released me.
"I'm not."
"You are."
I looked away.
"Everyone is."
"That's not what I mean."
Silence.
He stood.
"I'll sleep in the other room."
"Why?"
"Because you look like you're waiting for something terrible to happen."
My throat tightened.
"Maybe I am."
He walked away.
I stood there for several seconds.
Then I followed him.
"Niko."
He turned.
I forced myself to speak.
"I need you to understand something."
"Okay."
"I've never..."
My voice failed.
He waited.
I tried again.
"I've never been with anyone."
He stared at me.
I could see the exact second he understood.
His expression changed completely.
"You mean..."
"Yes."
"You were telling the truth."
"What?"
"All those stories."
I nodded.
He looked stunned.
Then angry.
"Your father knew?"
"Yes."
"Did he tell me?"
"No."
His jaw tightened.
"Neither did you."
"I barely knew you."
He walked toward the window.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Finally:
"Do you want me to leave?"
I looked at him.
"I don't know."
He nodded.
"Then I will."
He walked toward the door.
I grabbed his sleeve.
"Wait."
He turned.
I looked into his eyes.
"I'm not asking you to stay because you're my husband."
"Then why?"
"Because for the first time since this marriage began, I don't feel like you're trying to take something from me."
Something softened in his face.
He stayed.
That night, he slept on the couch.
And I slept in the bed.
Nothing happened.
But something had changed.
The next morning, Niko placed a key on the table.
"What is this?"
"The penthouse."
"I already live here."
"No."
He looked at me.
"Now it's yours too."
I stared at the key.
"Why?"
"Because if we're going to survive this marriage..."
He paused.
"I want you to have somewhere you feel safe."
Before I could respond, the front door opened.
A man rushed inside.
"Boss."
Niko turned.
"What?"
The man handed him a photograph.
Niko's expression darkened.
I stepped closer.
The photograph showed my father.
Meeting a stranger.
And behind them stood a man I recognized.
Niko's uncle.
Marco Santoro.
I looked at Niko.
"What does your uncle want with my father?"
Niko's face became cold.
"That's what I'm about to find out."
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And suddenly our marriage wasn't just a political bargain.
It was beginning to look like a trap.
