CHAPTER 9:Merger Day +First Real Kiss

The Bianchi boardroom was glass and steel and silence.  

Giulia sat beside Marco at the long table, her back straight, hands folded in her lap. The red dress was gone. Today she wore navy blue. Plain. Professional. Nothing that would make anyone believe this was real.  

  

The board of twelve men stared at her. Whispers traveled like smoke. _That’s the fiancée. The art student. The gold digger._ Giulia heard none of it. She only heard Marco’s breathing beside her. Steady. Too steady.  

Signore Bianchi tapped his cane once. “We begin.”  

For two hours, numbers filled the room. Merger terms. Share percentages. Four billion euros reduced to graphs and cold language. Giulia understood none of it. She understood the way Marco’s jaw clenched when his uncle questioned the valuation. She understood the way his fingers brushed hers under the table when Contessa said, “A CEO needs a wife who understands business, not just a pretty face.”  

Marco didn’t flinch. “She understands enough to know when you’re lying,” he said. The room went quiet.  

Giulia looked down. Her pulse raced. She had signed her name as _Giulia Romano Bianchi_ yesterday. The ink was still fresh in her mind. But it meant nothing. Day 30 was still coming. 10 days left.  

The lawyer stood. “Final signature required to execute the merger.”  

He placed two documents on the table. One for Marco. One for her. The family clause, attached as an appendix.  

Marco signed first. His pen moved fast, sharp, like he was cutting something loose. He pushed the document toward her without looking.  

Giulia stared at the line. Her hand trembled. Not from fear. From anger. From eight years of waiting and eleven days of pretending and now this room full of people who owned her future.  

She signed.  

The board clapped. Polite. Empty. Flashes went off as photographers captured the moment. Marco and Giulia, shoulders touching, fake smiles in place.  

“Congratulations,” Signore Bianchi said. “The merger is complete.”  

It should have ended there. It didn’t.  

As the room emptied, Marco’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. His face changed. Not the CEO mask. Not the 19-year-old boy. Something older. Colder.  

“Problem?” Giulia asked.  

“Valentina,” he said. “She leaked photos. From Lake Como. The kiss.”  

Giulia’s blood turned to ice. “The press will see it.”  

“They already have.” Marco stood, grabbing her wrist. “We have five minutes before they ambush us downstairs. We leave through the service exit.”  

They didn’t make it.  

The elevators opened to a wall of cameras and shouted questions. “Is it true the engagement was fake?” “Did you pay for her mother’s surgery?” “Will you sign a prenup, signorina?”  

Giulia froze. Marco moved.  

He stepped in front of her, blocking the cameras with his body. His hand found hers and laced their fingers together. Not for the cameras. For her.  

“One question,” he said, voice cutting through the noise. “Giulia Romano is my fiancée. She signed the family clause yesterday. She is Bianchi now. Anyone who disrespects her answers to me.”  

The cameras exploded.  

Giulia’s heart stopped. He had said it. Out loud. Not in the contract. Not in the boardroom. Here. With witnesses.  

A reporter pushed forward. “Then kiss her. Prove it’s real.”  

Marco turned to her. His eyes searched her face. No CEO. No plan. Just Marco. Desperate. Honest.  

10 days left.  

“Giulia,” he whispered. Only she could hear. “I can’t do Day 30. I won’t.”  

She opened her mouth to say no. To remind him of the contract. Of the clean break.  

He kissed her instead.  

Not the careful, public kiss from Lake Como. This was different. This was his mouth on hers like he had waited eight years and ten days and could not wait one second more. His hand came up to her face, thumb brushing her cheek the way he had in the bedroom yesterday. The cameras caught everything.  

Giulia didn’t push him away. She couldn’t. Her hands gripped his suit jacket and she kissed him back. Hard. Angry. Desperate. Because if this was a mistake, it was hers too.  

The world narrowed to his mouth and the taste of coffee and the sound of her name falling from his lips when he finally pulled back.  

“Mine,” he said. Low. Possessive. Not to the cameras. To her.  

Silence fell. Even the reporters stopped shouting.  

Signore Bianchi watched from the elevator, cane gripped tight. His expression gave nothing away.  

Marco let go of Giulia’s hand slowly. His thumb dragged over her knuckles once before he dropped it. CEO mask back on. But his lips were still swollen from hers.  

“We’re leaving,” he said to the room. Then he took her hand again and pulled her through the crowd.  

In the car, neither spoke. Giulia stared at her reflection in the window. Her lips were red. Her mascara smudged. She looked claimed.  

10 days left.  

Marco broke the silence first. “I’m sorry.”  

“For what?” Giulia asked. Her voice shook. “For kissing me? For making them believe it? For making me believe it?”  

“For waiting eight years,” he said.  

Giulia turned to him. “The contract ends in ten days, Marco.”  

“I know,” he said. “Then we write a new one.”  

He reached across the seat and took her hand again. This time, there were no cameras. No boardroom. Just his thumb drawing circles over her skin.  

Giulia didn’t pull away.  

Outside, her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number. A photo attachment.  

She opened it.  

It was her. Seventeen years old. Kissing Marco behind the university library. The photo she thought he had burned.  

Below it, text: _Day 30 won’t save you. I have more photos. And I know why he really left you._  

Giulia’s blood went cold. She deleted the message and locked her phone.  

But the contract was already breaking. And after Day 30, the war would begin.