Compris — voici la traduction anglaise complète, fidèle, fluide et dans le style dark romance tout en restant
LORENZO (inner voice)
In the end, I signed those damn marriage papers, but one thing's for sure: I don't give a shit about that kid. Seriously, I don't even know where my old man dug up a girl like her. Feels like he's just messing with me. How can he force me to marry a seventeen-year-old? That's insane. What am I supposed to be—her husband sleeping with her, or her babysitter changing diapers?
My head is burning. I'll explode if I don't calm down. I need sleep. It's the only way to forget this mess. Tomorrow, I'll lay down my rules straight to her face. And if she refuses to obey, too bad for her—she'll pay. I hate girls who think they're special, those little princess-wannabes. With me, that doesn't fly. And judging by her attitude already, I know it's going to be a nonstop war between us. And believe me, I'm capable of throwing her out without a second thought if she pisses me off. I didn't sign anything to become some kid's toy. I only folded so my old man would get off my back. I know his tricks too well…
After long minutes of brooding in the dark, Lorenzo stood up abruptly from his chair. He grabbed his glass, downed the last drop, and slammed it onto the table. Without waiting another second, he left the office.
But the moment he stepped into the bedroom, he froze. His eyes darkened.
Chloé was there.
Lying across the bed, face buried in the pillows, hair messy, sleeping peacefully. A fragile, innocent image that contrasted completely with the storm brewing in Lorenzo's eyes.
Lorenzo (with red eyes, icy voice)
What the hell is this? What the fuck is she doing in MY bed, that brat? What kind of bullshit is that?
His whole body vibrated with rage. In three strides, he was next to the bed. His gaze locked on her, he grabbed her arm brutally. He lifted her with no effort, as if she weighed nothing.
Chloé woke up with a jolt, completely disoriented. Wide-eyed, she tried to pull away, but Lorenzo's grip was steel.
Chloé (screaming)
Aaaah! Let go! You're hurting me!
But Lorenzo didn't hear a thing. Holding her like a useless load, he dragged her off the bed without a shred of gentleness. His clenched jaw, his bulging veins—he was nothing but pure rage.
At the door, he yanked it open. Then, violently, he threw Chloé into the hallway like a worthless sack.
Chloé (screaming)
Aaaaaaaaaaaa…
The impact was brutal. She slammed into the wall, her head hitting hard.
Her body collapsed on the floor. Her hair spread in messy strands over her face, still numb from sleep. Her hands lay limp on both sides. A heavy silence filled the hallway. Slowly, her breathing faded into a weak sigh—she had lost consciousness from the blow.
Lorenzo barely looked at her. Without another glance, he slammed the door shut, leaving the unconscious girl outside like some annoying object tossed aside.
Inside, still burning with anger, he approached his bed. His closed, cold expression radiated contempt. He ripped off the crumpled sheets she had dared to lie on and threw them away in a rage.
Lorenzo (furious)
Who does this kid think she is? How dare she come into my room and sleep in my bed like she owns the place? She must be dreaming. She'll learn fast who's boss here and what respecting my rules means. Otherwise, she'll see my real face… and she'll regret it.
After changing the sheets, Lorenzo dropped heavily onto the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He stared at the ceiling—cold, unmoving. His eyes slowly closed as he sought sleep, while Chloé lay unconscious in the hallway.
---
THE NEXT MORNING
The sun had been up for a while, but an eerie silence hung over the villa. In the hallway, Chloé's fragile body still lay in the same place. Her hair stuck to her face, her weak breathing revealed her vulnerability.
In his room, Lorenzo opened his eyes after a restless night. He stayed still, staring at the ceiling as if trying to reorder his thoughts. Then he got up and headed toward the door.
When he opened it, he froze again.
She was still there—just as he had left her.
Lorenzo crossed his arms, his gaze dark and unreadable. His eyes slowly slid from her messy hair to her bare thighs, which he observed with zero interest—as if her exposed body meant absolutely nothing to him.
Lorenzo (inner voice, cold)
That brat really has too much mouth, the way she talked back yesterday. I don't get what my father sees in a girl like her. Pathetic. How am I supposed to be married to a kid who thinks raising her voice is strength? I've known real women—none of this childish nonsense. I like women who know what they want, who actually offer something. With a girl like her, what could I possibly gain? Just wasted time.
Okay, the age difference isn't huge—she's 17, I'm 22. Five years isn't much. But the problem isn't the age. It's her. Stubborn, hard-headed, unable to bend. And I can feel it already—it won't be peaceful between us. It'll be a battlefield. I don't know if I'll break her or if she'll try to mess with me first, but one thing's sure: fists will fly.
His thoughts remained icy. No pity. No worry. He simply stared at her like she was a minor inconvenience.
Lorenzo (sighing)
She needs to wake up now… She's slept long enough.
He turned back to the room. From the table, he grabbed a bowl of water. Calmly, he returned to the hallway, stood above Chloé, and without any mercy, poured the water over her head.
The cold droplets ran down her face, into her hair, inside her ears. Her body twitched, her lips trembled. Her eyelids fluttered—dragged out of unconsciousness by this brutal awakening.
Chloé (shouting, shocked and furious)
Aaaaaiii… what the hell?!
Before she could even finish, Lorenzo dumped the entire bowl over her. The next second, the bowl shattered against the floor with a loud crack. Chloé jumped in fear, sitting up sharply, soaked from head to toe. Her wide eyes met Lorenzo's: he stood tall, hands in his pockets, cold, imposing—an authority that crushed everything in its path.
Chloé (furious, shouting)
Who the hell do you think you are?! How dare you throw water on my face like that first thing in the morning?!
Lorenzo (harsh, violent tone)
Get up. We need to talk. And shut your fucking mouth unless you want me to slap you right now.
His voice cracked like a whip. Chloé shivered. She got up, shaky, her legs almost giving out, but she stood her ground.
Chloé (in pain, holding her head)
Aaaah… my head…
The pain shot through her skull. She pushed her wet hair aside, crossed her arms, and looked at Lorenzo with burning defiance.
Chloé (inner voice, raging)
My head is on fire, I could faint any second…
But no way I let him crush me.
He wants to play the boss? Fine.
We'll set the record straight.
I'm not a puppet.
Lorenzo (commanding)
I'm go—
Chloé (cutting him off)
I forbid you from pouring water on me like that. I'm not your dog and—
Lorenzo (cold)
You shut your mouth when I'm talking. I don't like being interrupted. You—
Chloé (cutting him again)
Well, I don't like being interrupted either, so let me finish before you play the big boss. Like I said: don't ever throw water at me again. I'm not your slave, okay?
Lorenzo (inner voice, furious)
What the hell is wrong with this girl? Does she really think she can talk to me like that? Who does she think she is?
Lorenzo (exploding)
If you ever talk to me like that again, I swear I'll break you. Got it? I'm your husband, and you owe me respect. Don't think that because this marriage pisses me off, you'll run things here. This is my house, my rules, and you'll follow them. Otherwise, you'll see my wild side. And trust me, you don't want to see that.
Chloé (inner voice, sarcastic)
Wild side? Sure… you're just a guy who thinks he's some superhero on break, with muscles big as pumpkins.
Lorenzo (boiling)
When I talk, you answer, brat.
Chloé (angry)
Stop calling me a brat. I'm not a kid, so watch your mouth—
SPLASH!
The sound echoed like a thunderclap. Lorenzo had slapped her. Hard. Chloé instinctively held her cheek, stunned between anger and shock.
Chloé (furious)
Are you insane?! How dare you hit me?! Who do you think you are—my father?! You're just my damn husband for one day, so don't you ever hit me again.
Lorenzo grabbed her arm violently, pulling her close. His eyes burned with black fury, trapping her in his gaze.
Lorenzo (cold, furious)
The next time you call me "dude", I swear it'll get ugly. I'm not your buddy. I'm your husband. And you fucking respect me. Understood?
Chloé stayed silent, tears pooling—tears she refused to let fall. His grip tightened so much she felt the pain shoot through her arm.
Lorenzo (yelling)
ANSWER ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU! I'm your husband, not one of your little friends! You hear me?!
The pressure was unbearable. Her arm reddened instantly, her bones screaming under his grip. Tears finally rolled down her cheeks. Still, she nodded—broken but defiant.
Chloé (hurt, whispering)
Fine… I get it. You're my damn husband now, so… let go. You're hurting me.
He stared at her a moment, then abruptly released her. She grabbed her arm, breathing through the pain. He crossed his arms again, stone-faced.
Lorenzo (cold)
From today on, you're not leaving this house.
Chloé (panicking)
WHAT?! You're kidding! I can't leave the house? And my classes? My studies?!
Lorenzo (firm)
If you dare step one foot outside, you'll deal with me.
Chloé (inner voice, mocking)
Yeah… sure. Says who? "I own you, brat"? What a joke.
Lorenzo (continuing)
And stay out of my room. This space is mine. You sleep in the next room. Your phone? You keep only my number, my parents', and yours. Nothing else.
Chloé (inner voice)
Who do you think you are? My master? You don't know me yet, bastard…
Lorenzo (authoritative)
If you want to stay here, behave like a docile wife. Otherwise, I'll throw you out. In my house, I decide. You obey and shut your mouth unless you want to get corrected often.
Chloé (inner voice)
Being thrown out sounds good, actually…
But not before your father pays for my dad's surgery.
A heavy silence settled. They stared at each other—hostile, unyielding. Lorenzo looked like a king demanding submission. Chloé, furious but determined, refused to bow.
Lorenzo (cold)
Did you understand what I said?
Chloé (inner voice)
Honestly? I got nothing. All I see is one big, imposing bad boy who already drives me insane—and whom I'm stuck with unless I want more slaps or risk my father's life.
Lorenzo (shouting)
Can you answer?! I asked you a question, brat!
Chloé (muttering)
I'm not a brat, asshole…
Lorenzo (enraged)
What was that? You want another slap to open your mouth?
Chloé (calm, sarcastic)
I said I understood. Perfectly.
Lorenzo (threatening)
Good for you.
Without another word, he turned and stormed into his room, slamming the door so hard that Chloé jumped.
Chloé (murmuring, exhausted)
What the hell did I get myself into… this man isn't human, he's a damn—
The door cracked open again. Lorenzo appeared, eyes sharp as blades. Chloé froze.
Lorenzo (cold)
Go make me breakfast. The maid is off today. And be quick—I hate waiting.
Chloé blinked, stunned.
Chloé (in disbelief)
What? I'm supposed to—
CLACK.
He shut the door in her face, leaving her standing there, mouth open.
She inhaled deeply, gathering what little strength she had left.
Chloé (muttering, sarcastic)
Well… we're both staying hungry then, because I have absolutely no idea how to make breakfast.
With a resigned sigh, she headed to the next room—the one he claimed was hers. She entered and slammed the door behind her, trying to muster courage to face this new hell.
To be continued…