Relana Flores
### Chapter 1
The black dress clung to me like a second skin, each sequin a tiny, defiant spark against the suffocating darkness. Mama always said I looked best in black—that it brought out the fire in my eyes. Tonight, though, I felt more like a moth drawn to a flame, not a flame myself.
My reflection in the antique mirror was almost unrecognizable. My cheekbones, usually softened by a mischievous smile, were sharp, defined by a nervous tension I couldn't shake. The dress, borrowed from a friend and far too expensive for my own closet, made me feel like a fraud. All smoke and mirrors, hiding the desperation gnawing at my insides.
"You look beautiful, Relana," Mama said softly from behind me, her voice a warm balm against the chill that had settled in my bones. I turned to face her, forcing a smile.
"Thank you, Mama."
She smoothed a stray strand of hair behind my ear, her touch gentle. "Don't be afraid, *mija*. Tonight is just a meeting. Nothing is set in stone."
Easy for her to say. She wasn't the one about to face the devil.
We both knew what was at stake. Our family's business, a small vineyard that had been in our family for generations, was drowning in debt. The banks had refused us, and desperation had led us to him. Damien Thorne. A name whispered with a mix of fear and reverence in the hushed corners of our small town. They said he was ruthless, that his wealth was built on secrets and shadows. A devil in a tailored suit.
The car ride to Thorne Manor was a blur. The estate loomed in the distance, a gothic monstrosity that seemed to claw at the sky. The iron gates swung open as we approached, and I couldn't help but feel like I was entering my own gilded cage.
Inside, the manor was a study in opulent darkness. Chandeliers dripped with crystals, casting eerie shadows on the velvet walls. A butler, his face an emotionless mask, led us through a maze of hallways to a grand drawing-room.
He was waiting for us.
Damien Thorne rose as we entered, and the sheer size of him stole my breath. At 6'7", he towered over me—a daunting figure, especially considering my measly 5'3" frame. He was handsome in a way that felt dangerous, every line of his face sharp and sculpted. A strong jaw, a straight nose, and cheekbones that looked carved from granite. He was built like a warrior, muscles straining subtly against the fine fabric of his suit. He moved with a predatory grace that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Mrs. Flores," he said, his voice a low, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate through me. "Relana. Welcome to my home."
He extended a hand, and I hesitated for a moment before taking it. His touch was cold, firm, and his hand completely enveloped mine. He held my gaze, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I felt utterly exposed, as if he could see every hidden thought, every desperate hope, every secret fear. His eyes were dark and piercing as the night.
"Thank you for having us, Mr. Thorne," Mama said, her voice surprisingly steady.
"Please," he said, gesturing to the plush velvet chairs, "call me Damien. Let's dispense with the formalities, shall we? We have a bargain to discuss."
As I sat down, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't just entering into a business arrangement. I was stepping into a dangerous game, one where the stakes were higher than I could possibly imagine. And I was starting to fear that I had already lost before the first card was even dealt.
As we settled into the plush velvet chairs, Damien didn't waste any time. "I've reviewed your financial situation, Mrs. Flores," he said, his gaze unwavering. "Your vineyard is... deeply in debt."
Mama's shoulders slumped slightly, but she met his gaze head-on. "We've had some…difficulties."
"Difficulties that require a substantial amount of capital," he finished for her. "Capital I am willing to provide."
My heart leaped with a flicker of hope, but I knew there had to be a catch. Damien Thorne didn't strike me as a philanthropist.
"What are your terms, Mr. Thorne?" I asked, cutting to the chase.
A slow smile spread across his face, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Straight to the point. I admire that, Relana. My terms are quite simple. I will cover your debts, ensuring the vineyard's survival. In return…" He paused, his gaze locking onto mine, "...you will marry me."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stared at him, dumbfounded. Marriage? To *him*?
"I...I don't understand," I stammered. "Why would you want to marry me?"
He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Let's just say I have my reasons. Perhaps I admire your spirit, your fire. Perhaps I see potential. Or perhaps…" He paused again, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "...I simply want what I cannot have easily."
Mama gasped softly beside me, her hand reaching for mine. I squeezed her fingers, trying to project a strength I didn't feel.
"This is absurd," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "You can't possibly be serious."
"Oh, I assure you, Relana, I am always serious," he replied, his eyes glinting with something I couldn't quite decipher. "Consider the alternative. Your family loses everything. The vineyard, your home, your livelihood. All gone. This is your only way out."
I looked at Mama, her face etched with worry. I knew she would never ask me to do this, but the desperation in her eyes was a silent plea. Our family's legacy, everything we had worked for, was on the brink of collapse.
"I need time to think," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Of course," Damien replied, rising from his chair. "I am a reasonable man. I will give you until tomorrow evening to consider my proposal. But be warned, Relana. Time is a luxury you can no longer afford."
He walked us to the door, his presence looming over me. As we stepped out into the hallway, I glanced back at him. He stood there, watching us, a dark and enigmatic figure in the opulent surroundings of his manor.
As the butler led us back to the car, I felt like I was walking to my execution. Marriage to Damien Thorne. The devil's bargain. Was I really willing to sacrifice myself to save my family? And if I did, would I ever truly be free again?
**(End of Chapter 1)**