Love or the Contract :The Negotiation Begins – Sophie’s Stand Against Dante

Dante pulled out a chair and sat across from her with the relaxed posture of someone who knew he had already won the battle. Sophie remained standing, arms crossed, refusing to be intimidated by his presence.

— “If we’re going to do this,” she began, keeping her tone firm, “I want guarantees.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

— “Guarantees?”

— “Yes.” Sophie stepped closer, placing her hands on the table between them. “I want to know exactly what the terms of this contract are. If you expect me to play this game, I want clear rules.”

Dante smirked.

— “You want a formal contract for a marriage that, on paper, is already a contract? Ironic.”

— “I want security,” she shot back, her gaze piercing into his. “And I want to know exactly what I’m getting into.”

He leaned slightly forward, his intense blue eyes locked on hers.

— “Then sit down, Sophie. Let’s negotiate.”

She hesitated, but realizing this was only the first of many confrontations, she pulled out the chair in front of her and sat down. The game was only just beginning.

Dante drummed his fingers on the mahogany table, his eyes locked on Sophie. He was studying her as if trying to decipher every thought running through her mind. Sophie crossed her arms, standing her ground, refusing to give in to the pressure he tried to exert with his overwhelming presence.

— “So tell me, Sophie, what is it that you want?” Dante broke the silence, his voice velvety, but laced with an implicit challenge.

She lifted her chin, determined not to show a hint of hesitation.

— “I want guarantees that my life won’t become a living hell by your side.”

His smile widened slightly, though there was no real humor in it.

— “That depends a lot on you, doesn’t it?”

He leaned in a little.

— “If you play your part, I’ll play mine. But if you decide to make things difficult…”

Sophie leaned forward too, locking eyes with him.

— “Believe me, Mr. Vasconcellos, I’m excellent at making things difficult.”

Dante’s eyes sparkled with amusement—and something else. Something dangerous.

— “Is that so?” he said, lowering his voice almost to a whisper, like he was sharing a secret. “Then maybe it’ll be interesting to find out how far you can push before you lose that advantage.”

Sophie didn’t flinch, even though every fiber of her body warned her that he was a different kind of adversary—one unlike any she had ever faced. Dante Vasconcellos wasn’t the type of man who backed down. He dominated. Took. Manipulated. And now, apparently, he was determined to test her limits.

She took a deep breath, keeping her gaze steady.

— “If we’re doing this, I want clear terms.”

Dante raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by how quickly she’d stepped into the role of negotiator.

— “Go on. I’m listening.”

Sophie pulled out a chair and sat down in front of him, crossing her legs and keeping her eyes locked on his. If he wanted to test her boundaries, she’d do the same.

— “I want full autonomy over my personal life. That means I’ll keep working, going wherever I want, and staying in touch with whoever I choose.”

Dante leaned back, watching her with renewed interest.

— “And I’m just supposed to accept that without restrictions?”

— “Exactly. You can control your world, but you’re not going to control mine.” Sophie pressed her lips together. “Unless you’d rather turn this contract into a prison sentence.”

Silence stretched between them for a few seconds. Then Dante smiled.

— “Interesting. But you do understand that marriage demands appearances, right?”

He rested his elbows on the table.

— “That means in public, you’ll be my wife. And I’ll be your husband. If you expect total independence, you might want to reconsider your position.”

Sophie dug her fingers into the fabric of her pants. The worst part was—he was right. There was no escaping the fact that this marriage would be a public performance. But she wasn’t about to give in so easily.

— “I understand the need for appearances. But there are limits.”

She tilted her head.

— “You need this for your business. I need it to save my family. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Dante let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent a chill down Sophie’s spine.

— “You keep surprising me, Miss Monteiro.” He slid a folder across the table. “Read the terms. Add your demands. Then we’ll see if we can reach an agreement.”

Sophie picked up the papers, feeling the weight of that decision in her hands. She still didn’t know how she would get out of this situation—but one thing was certain: She wouldn’t give Dante Vasconcellos the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

The game had begun. And she was ready to play.