"He wants what?"
My voice came out cracked, like I'd swallowed glass.
Across from me, Leon my father's oldest friend and the closest thing to a family lawyer we had left didn't flinch.
He just slid the contract across the table.
Marriage License.
Non-Disclosure Clause.
Duration: One Year.
To: Damien Blackwood.
My fingers shook as I gripped the paper. "This is a fucking joke, right?"
Leon's jaw tightened. "It's the only deal he'll make. Either you marry him, or your brother dies."
Forty-eight hours ago, my little brother was kidnapped outside a nightclub.
This morning, his severed pinky arrived in a black velvet box.
An hour later, Damien Blackwood sent his lawyer.
The same Damien Blackwood who ruined my father.
The same man who bought our company in a hostile takeover, sold it off piece by piece, and left my family broke, disgraced, and hunted.
The same bastard whose cold gray eyes followed me once at a charity gala… like he already knew I'd be his someday.
And now he wanted me in a white dress.
Not because he loved me.
Not because I was special.
But because he could.
"You have until midnight," Leon said. "After that I can't guarantee your brother stays alive.
That night, I stood in front of Blackthorn Tower, Manhattan's coldest, tallest skyscraper, wearing the same black coat I'd worn to my mother's funeral.
The elevator rose with a soft hum. My stomach didn't.
By the time I reached the top floor, my heart was a drum in my throat.
The doors opened… and there he was.
Damien Blackwood.
In a black suit like sin, hands in his pockets, lips curled into something dark and pleased.
"You came," he said, voice smooth enough to drown in. "Good girl."
I hated how that stirred something low and hot in my stomach. I hated how beautiful he was. I hated how calm he looked like he knew owned me already.
"I'm not your good girl," I snapped.
He smirked and stepped closer. The scent of expensive cologne and danger hit me like a drug.
"Not yet but You will be."