Arabella Monroe had never stepped foot inside a place this luxurious, and yet here she was—drowning in gold chandeliers, polished marble floors, and walls that smelled of power and money. Damon Knight's office looked more like a throne room than a business space.
And he sat behind that oversized mahogany desk like a king.
A devilish king.
She clenched her fists as her heels clicked against the floor, stopping only when she stood in front of him. He hadn't even looked up yet. Of course he wouldn't. Damon Knight didn't look at people—he looked through them.
"Arabella Monroe," he said, finally lifting his head, voice like warm honey mixed with poison. "Still gorgeous, I see. But now with a touch of desperation in those pretty brown eyes."
She rolled her eyes. "Let's skip the ego stroking. You said you had a deal?"
His lips twitched into that maddening smirk that used to drive her crazy in high school—for all the wrong reasons. "Straight to business. I admire that. Very un-Monroe of you."
"Cut the crap, Damon," she snapped. "My father's debts, your threats to buy out his company—I know you're behind everything. So if you brought me here to humiliate me, get it over with."
He stood up slowly, walking around the desk like a predator circling its prey. Arabella stiffened as he stopped just inches from her, eyes locking on hers.
"I'm not here to humiliate you," he said. "I'm here to marry you."
The room went still.
Arabella blinked. "I—What?"
"You heard me. Marry me," he said, voice calm and cold. "For one year. It's a business arrangement. You play my loving wife in public, and in return… I'll clear your father's debts and give you ten million dollars."
She took a step back, stunned. "Is this a joke?"
"No." He leaned in, so close she could smell his cologne—dark, woodsy, dangerously addictive. "I need a wife. A scandal is brewing, and my board won't survive another one. You need money. I need a clean image. We both win."
"Why me, Damon?"
He grinned, eyes gleaming. "Because you hate me. Which means I can trust you not to fall in love."
Arabella's heart thundered in her chest. She hated him. She did. And yet, her body betrayed her with the way it reacted to his closeness, to the dark temptation dripping from his voice.
"I'm not going to sleep with you," she said coldly.
"I'm not asking you to." He straightened up. "This marriage is just a business deal. No emotions. No touching. No strings. One year."
She stared at him. He was offering her salvation… and a one-way ticket to hell.
But with her family's name ruined and their house already on the auction list, what choice did she really have?
Arabella drew in a shaky breath. "Fine. One year. Then I'm free."
Damon's smirk deepened.
"Welcome to hell, Mrs. Knight."