The contract sat on my father's mahogany desk, still warm from the printer. Sign it, and I'd marry a stranger in three months. Refuse, and our family empire would crumble by morning. "Evangeline, we're out of options," my father said, his voice hollow. "The Volkov family owns our debt. This alliance is the only way." I stared at the ornate signature line. Twenty-four years old, and my life was being sold to save a business I never wanted. That's when he walked in. Tall, dark-suited, with eyes like frozen steel. He moved like violence wrapped in expensive fabric. "Your new bodyguard," my father announced. "Dante Russo. He'll keep you safe until the wedding." Dante's gaze locked onto mine. Something dangerous flickered there. "Miss Hartwell," he said, his voice rough velvet. I should have been afraid. Instead, my pulse quickened for entirely different reasons. "I don't need a babysitter," I said. His lips curved slightly. "You need me more than you know." The way he said it sent chills down my spine. Like a promise. Like a threat. My father left us alone. Dante stepped closer, invading my space. "Let me be clear," he said quietly. "I'm here to protect you. Nothing more." But his eyes told a different story. I lifted my chin. "And if I don't want your protection?" "Then you'll die before you ever reach that altar."