Married to the Wrong Brother

Chapter 1

Zahara

The contract in front of me is more than just ink on paper, it’s the culmination of years of sacrifice, of sleepless nights spent coding until my vision blurred, of fighting my way into a world that never wanted me in the first place. It’so my last chance to save my company, my legacy, and yet, as I stare at my signature scrawled next to Gabriel D’Angelo’s, something in my chest coils tight.

I ignore it. I’ve learned to ignore a lot of things.

The polished glass walls of Gabriel’s Manhattan office reflect a version of me that looks exactly how I need to be, controlled, elegant, untouchable. My deep brown skin gleams under the overhead lighting, my tailored ivory suit crisp against my frame, a contrast to the darkness that surrounds me. The men in this world operate in shadows, their power stitched into old money and bloodlines. I built mine from nothing, from the algorithms and firewalls that made EllisTech a force to be reckoned with.

Now I’m selling a piece of it, to the devil in a three-piece suit.

Gabriel sits across from me, exuding the kind of effortless authority that makes people bow before him. His gray-blue eyes are unreadable, sharp and assessing as he steeples his fingers together. Everything about him is pristine, from the cut of his charcoal suit to the precise way his wristwatch peeks beneath his cuff. There isn’t a single thing about Gabriel D’Angelo that is accidental.

I should admire it. I should feel relief.

Instead, all I feel is exhaustion.

"Congratulations, Mrs. D’Angelo," Gabriel says smoothly, and the sound of it makes my stomach curl.

“Not yet,” I reply, tapping the contract. “It’s not official until the ceremony.”

His lips twitch, the barest hint of amusement, but I see the satisfaction in his eyes. He thinks he’s won.

Gabriel doesn’t believe in love. Neither do I. That’s what makes this arrangement perfect.

Six months of a legal, strategic marriage, long enough to finalize the merger, long enough to stabilize my company’s finances. Then we part ways, unscathed, richer than before. He gets control of the tech that will make him untouchable in the cybersecurity market. I get the investment that will keep EllisTech out of the hands of the vultures circling, waiting for me to fail.

It’s clean. Simple.

And completely, utterly suffocating.

“Do you always look like you’re preparing for a funeral at your own negotiations?” Gabriel muses, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

“I don’t trust easy deals,” I say flatly.

He chuckles, the sound low and knowing. “Then you should trust this one.”

I don’t. I never have. But I stopped believing in luck a long time ago.

The office door swings open before I can respond, and the presence that steps inside is entirely different, disruptive in a way that Gabriel never is. The shift in atmosphere is immediate, the kind that prickles against my skin before my mind catches up.

Luca.

The black sheep. The one who was never supposed to be part of this conversation.

Luca D’Angelo doesn’t just walk into a room; he takes it, drags the oxygen with him, makes you forget what the hell you were doing before he arrived. He’s Gabriel’s opposite in every way, where Gabriel is precision and control, Luca is reckless confidence, a smirk carved into the kind of face that makes smart women do stupid things.

I should know.

He leans against the doorframe like he owns the place, sleeves pushed up, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone like he couldn’t be bothered to pretend he plays by the same rules. He doesn’t belong in boardrooms. He belongs in the kind of places where power isn’t dictated by contracts, but by how quickly someone can disappear.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Luca drawls, his voice a lazy rasp that doesn’t match the sharp glint in his ice-blue eyes. He flicks a glance at the contract on the table, then at me, his smirk widening. “Making it official, are we?”

Gabriel tenses, a flicker of irritation barely concealed beneath his mask. “What do you want, Luca?”

Luca tilts his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe an invitation to the wedding? Or is big brother keeping this one all to himself?”

His gaze lingers on me, assessing, curious, like he’s peeling back layers I don’t want him to see. He does that too easily, sees through the masks people wear, gets under their skin like a sliver you can’t dig out.

I refuse to let him see anything.

“This has nothing to do with you,” I say, my voice cool, measured.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” Luca murmurs, stepping closer. “Everything about this has to do with me.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightens. “Luca, leave.”

But Luca doesn’t leave. He never does when you tell him to. Instead, he leans down, palms pressing against the corner of the table, close enough that I catch the faintest trace of something rich and dark, whiskey and spice and trouble.

“Tell me something,” he says, voice dropping just for me. “Does marrying my brother feel like winning?”

The question slams into me harder than I expect, a challenge wrapped in quiet curiosity.

I don’t flinch. I don’t let the tension coil in my spine betray me.

Instead, I pick up the pen again and tap it against the contract. “Winning is keeping my company,” I say simply. “Everything else is just collateral damage.”

Luca studies me far longer than necessary, then chuckles softly. It’s not amused—it’s something else. Something unreadable.

“Good answer,” he murmurs, pushing off the table. “Shame you won’t like the ending.”

Just like that, he’s gone, disappearing down the hallway with the same ease he arrived.

I exhale slowly, realizing I’ve been gripping the pen so tightly that my fingers ache.

Gabriel watches me with an unreadable expression before standing. “Ignore him.”

I force my posture back into its perfect, polished lines. “I already have.”