"I owe you my life for this, Lena. Seriously."
Maya's voice chirped through the phone as I buttoned the top of the silky red dress she'd shoved into my hands an hour ago.
"Yes, Maya. You do owe me your life" I muttered, tucking in the last stubborn strand of hair into the messy bun I'd wrestled together. "Why am I even doing this again?"
"Because you love me," she sang. "And because if I stood up this guy last minute, my boss would fire me. He's some VIP client of the firm, blah blah, you know the drill. Just go, smile, pretend you're me, and order some champagne. Easy."
Easy. Right.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. The dress clung in all the right places. Maya's taste leaned toward "kill them with some cleavage" and the heels made my legs look like I belonged in a magazine. I looked nothing like the woman who'd spent the morning at a courthouse watching her brother's life unravel before her very eyes.
And maybe that was the point.
By the time I arrived at the high-end restaurant, I was already regretting this. The place was all low lighting, crystal glasses, and soft jazz. A hostess in black silk greeted me with a rehearsed smile.
"Reservation for Maya Cole," I said, praying my voice didn't sound as fake as my smile.
She nodded and gestured for me to follow. My heels clicked softly against the polished floor as I wove through the maze of tables until my steps faltered.
Because he was there.
Damien Black.
Sitting at the table like sin in human form black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, watch glinting under the warm lights. His gray eyes lifted from his phone, and when they met mine, a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.
"Hello, Elena."
My stomach dropped so fast I swore I felt it hit the floor. "You've got to be kidding me."
The hostess looked confused, but Damien smoothly gestured to the empty chair opposite him.
"She'll be joining me," he said, his voice that dangerous mix of velvet and steel.
I wanted to turn around, walk straight out, and maybe throw myself in front of the nearest bus. But my feet betrayed me, carrying me forward until I sank into the chair.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed.
He leaned back, studying me like a cat would a trapped mouse. "I could ask you the same thing. Though, judging by that dress… you're not here for a family reunion."
I clenched my jaw. "This isn't any your business."
"Oh, but it is." He reached forward, sliding a sleek black folder across the table toward me. "This is what you came for."
I didn't touch it. "I came for dinner. Not whatever game you're playing Damien."
His smile sharpened. "This isn't a game, Elena. It's a contract."
My chest tightened. "You've got to be joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?" He tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving mine. "You marry me. In return, Luke walks free. Simple."
I let out a humorless laugh. "You've lost your mind if you think I'm going to—"
"You don't have a choice." His voice dropped, soft but lethal. "Your brother doesn't have a choice. And I'm the only man who can help him."
The world around us faded the clink of silverware, the quiet hum of conversations until it was just the two of us locked in that brutal, invisible war.
"You hate me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Correct." He didn't hesitate. "And I plan to make your life a living hell."
I swallowed hard, but I refused to let him see me flinch. "Then why do this?"
His eyes burned into mine. "Because I've waited ten years for the perfect way to destroy you. And you just handed it over to me."
My pulse was erratic, every instinct screaming at me to run. But Luke's face pale, scared, trapped behind bars was carved into my mind.
Damien leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, voice curling around me like smoke. "Sign it, Elena. Or Luke doesn't survive the month."
I stared at the folder like it might bite. Then, slowly, my fingers reached for the pen tucked inside. My signature came out jagged, my hand trembling with every letter.
When I slid the folder back to him, Damien's smile widened slow, victorious, terrifying.
"Good girl," he murmured, tucking the papers away.
I hated the way my stomach twisted at those words.
"Enjoy your dinner," he said, standing. "From now on, you eat with me."
And just like that, he walked away, leaving me in the middle of the restaurant, drowning in the sinking realization that I'd just signed away my freedom.