“My what?” That was my exact reaction when my father told me I’d be meeting my husband. A man I’d never met. A deal I never agreed to. His name is Damian Voss cold, calculating, and irritatingly perfect. The heir to an empire and apparently the answer to all my father’s business problems. “Our wedding isn’t about love, Miss Moretti. It’s about responsibility.” he said I told him, “Then you picked the wrong girl.” Because I don’t do obedience. I don’t do fake smiles or forced affection. If he wants a quiet wife, he should’ve married a mannequin. But Damian Voss doesn’t scare easily. He argues, he listens, he stares like he already owns me. And the more I fight him, the more I realize he’s not the only one playing pretend. He promised I’d fall for him. I promised I never would. But promises are easy to make… until feelings get in the way.