His Secret Wife, the Hidden CEO

Damien Moretti had never been told what to do.

From the moment he could walk, he commanded. People bent to his will, not out of affection, but fear. As the CEO of Moretti Enterprises, he held boardrooms in a chokehold. As the leader of the Moretti Syndicate, he ruled streets with silent, unchallenged violence. There were whispers in the business world and in the shadows-he was ruthless, arrogant, and untouchable.

And now, here he was, sitting at the head of a long mahogany table in his father's private study, being told what to do by a dying man.

"You will marry her, Damien," Alessandro Moretti said, his voice brittle with age but unwavering. "The doctors gave me six months. Maybe less. I won't leave this world without knowing the Moretti name will continue-legitimately."

Damien scoffed. "There are about a hundred ways to make this empire look clean, old man. Marriage isn't one of them."

Alessandro's hand trembled slightly as he picked up a glass of bourbon. "This isn't just about appearances. This is about legacy. The girl's bloodline is clean. Her background checks out. No connections to rivals. No complications. She's... normal."

Normal. The word tasted like ash in Damien's mouth.

"I don't do normal."

"Which is exactly why you need it."

Damien stood abruptly, his six-foot-three frame towering over the old man. "You're asking me to chain myself to a stranger for the sake of optics."

Alessandro stared up at his son, his expression hard. "I'm not asking. I'm telling. You will marry Aria Lane. The papers are already drawn. You sign tomorrow."

Damien's jaw clenched. In thirty years, no one had dared give him orders.

But this wasn't just anyone. This was the man who had built an empire out of blood and brilliance-and passed it on to Damien. And Damien owed him everything.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "But don't expect me to fall in love."

---

Aria Lane stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the soft cream blouse tucked into her high-waisted navy slacks. She looked exactly how she was supposed to: polished, modest, forgettable.

The irony was not lost on her.

Most people in the city had never heard of LaneTech. Those who had assumed it was one of those quiet little startups that came and went like mist.

That was exactly how she wanted it.

Behind closed doors, Aria was a shark. As the founder and CEO of LaneTech, she had developed a security software suite so advanced it had been quietly integrated into some of the world's top defense systems.

But no one knew. No one could.

Which made this next step even more dangerous.

"Are you sure about this?" Zoey, her assistant and closest friend, asked from the couch.

Aria turned, her calm mask slipping for just a second. "No. But I don't really have a choice."

The contract had come through a mysterious attorney who refused to give a name. A marriage of convenience, they said. A way to protect her company from hostile takeovers. In return, her anonymity would be safeguarded. Her assets protected. Her life-controlled, but safe.

She hadn't known it would be Damien Moretti.

The Devil of Manhattan.

"He doesn't know who I am," Aria said, forcing the mask back on. "And he won't. As far as he knows, I'm just Aria Lane. Quiet. Obedient. Easily forgotten."

Zoey raised an eyebrow. "You've never been obedient a day in your life."

"That's the point," Aria said with a smile. "If I play this right, he won't see me coming."

---

The wedding was set for Friday.

There were no flowers. No guests. No promises of forever. Just a notary, a couple of attorneys, and two signatures on a page.

Damien watched her from the corner of his eye as she signed the document. Aria Lane. She was petite, graceful. Hair like dark silk, eyes that held depth far beyond what her docile expression suggested.

She didn't flinch under his gaze.

That intrigued him.

"You know what you're getting into?" he asked as she passed the pen back.

Aria looked up, her eyes meeting his without hesitation. "Do you?"

A spark.

Just for a moment.

He didn't respond. He didn't have to. The deal was done.

They were married.

And neither of them had any idea what they'd just set in motion.

Damien slid the contract into a leather folder and handed it off to his attorney without another glance. The man nodded and disappeared, leaving the newlyweds alone in the minimalist office.

Aria smoothed a wrinkle from her sleeve, her expression unreadable. Silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid things.

"You'll move into the penthouse tomorrow," Damien said finally, his tone clipped, businesslike. "A driver will pick you up at ten. Don't be late."

Aria tilted her head slightly. "Am I allowed to bring my things, or do you plan to furnish my life as well?"

His eyes narrowed at the tone. It was subtle, almost polite-but it had teeth.

"You'll bring only what you need. Everything else will be provided."

"How thoughtful."

He studied her again, more closely this time. There was something off about her calm. Not timid, but measured. Controlled. She didn't shrink from him-most people did. She met his gaze without flinching, and it stirred something sharp and unfamiliar in his chest.

"You're not what I expected," he said flatly.

"That's the idea," she replied.

He almost smiled. Almost.

Instead, he straightened his cuffs and stepped past her. "We'll be seen in public together twice a month. Dinners. Charity galas. Appearances to appease the press. I'll have my team draw up a schedule."

"Of course," Aria said, her voice smooth as silk. "The perfect wife."

Something about the way she said it made Damien pause at the door. He glanced over his shoulder. Her expression hadn't changed, but her eyes... those eyes were far from obedient.

He didn't say anything else. Just left.

And Aria, alone in the sterile office, finally let out a slow breath.

This was just the beginning.

She had entered the lion's den willingly.

But Damien Moretti had no idea he'd just invited a wolf into his home