His Favourite Enemy (Ruin me my love)

Chapter Two

Trovian's POV

She was thirty minutes late.

The clock on the wall ticked with maddening precision, every second stretching into eternity. The guests’ murmurs filled the air like static, thick with judgment. I sat there, stone-faced, fighting the fury that raged beneath my skin, the itch to break something just to feel alive.

Was this David’s plan? A public humiliation served on a velvet cushion? To make me sweat, to make me look like a fool while the whole world watched? If it was, he had one hell of a sense of irony.

The priest glanced at me again, his eyes full of pity or maybe curiosity, but I didn’t care. I nodded, lying with my eyes: She’s on her way.

I wasn’t sure anymore.

Then, finally, the church doors creaked open.

A ripple of gasps spread across the room like wildfire. Heads swiveled, mouths dropping open in synchronized shock. And there she wasCassandra Jenkins Walking down the aisle like sin dipped in silk.

She wore black.

A fitted, flowing gown that clung to her curves like it belonged to her, as if the fabric was an extension of her rebellion. It screamed defiance, screamed everything she was about to shatter. The crowd hated it. They hated her. I didn’t. I didn’t give a damn what they thought.

She looked like vengeance personified. The kind that burned you alive and left you begging for more.

Her father, red-faced and furious, dragged her down the aisle like a puppet on a string. Good. Let him boil. He thought cornering me into this marriage gave him power, that this contract was his victory. But he’d just handed me the weapon to burn his house down and called it a deal.

Cassandra Jenkins, I thought. You're the perfect pawn. Beautiful. Disposable. And completely unaware of the game you’ve been pulled into.

Her eyes flicked up, a brief, electric connection. She met mine, and I smiled sharp, cold. She blushed and quickly looked away.

Cute.

But I knew better. I had done my homework. Shyness? That was a brand she sold to the world. This was an act. She had a much sharper edge than she let anyone see.

When they finally reached me, David leaned in close, whispering something in her ear. She stiffened. A small, imperceptible reaction.

Then, like a business transaction, he placed her hand in mine. Cold. Trembling. Not a gift. Not an offering. A commodity.

Her fingers shook. Her body shook, but she said nothing. She just kept her eyes on the floor, avoiding everything around her, like she could somehow vanish into the stone tiles beneath her feet.

The priest’s words were a blur. Some nonsense about love, faith, and holy unions. I barely heard it. I barely felt anything except the raw pulse of frustration drumming beneath my skin. Cassandra didn’t look up. She wasn’t even present. Her head was down, her thoughts a million miles away, all of them screaming at the same volume.

David’s face flashed in my mind, scarred, brutal, a violent roadmap of everything he'd been through, and everything he had forced on others. I never understood how someone like him, so broken, ended up with someone like Sofia, so polished, so clean, like the finest china. His face was the kind of horror story you could never unsee.

Then came the moment of truth, the veil.

I lifted it, ready for the facade, the veil to fall away and reveal the obedient bride.

But then I froze.

She was... breathtaking. Ethereal. Dangerous. Like a siren wrapped in innocence. A contradiction in the purest form. The kind of beauty that made it hard to remember this was war.

She wasn’t what I thought.

Goddamn it. Why couldn’t she have looked like her father?

The priest’s voice droned on, but it was nothing but noise in my ears. I focused only on her. Her delicate features, her eyes avoiding mine, like she couldn’t bear to meet my gaze.

“Mr. Blackwood, repeat after me…”

I recited the vows, my voice steady, betraying nothing. I couldn’t stop watching her. She didn’t look up once.

“Cassandra Jenkins, repeat after me.”

She jerked like someone slapped her, breaking the fragile silence.

The priest prompted again. A beat passed. She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come.

“I, Cassandra Jenkins, take…”

Her voice cracked.

Silence.

And then the tears.

Big, ugly, unmistakably real tears.

Her whole body shook, the weight of something too heavy for her to carry crashing down.

What. The actual. f**k.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking through the air like glass. “I just can’t.”

And then she ran.

She lifted the gown with shaking hands, bolting down the aisle like a reverse bride in a horror flick, each step desperate, frantic, her heart pounding with the sound of betrayal.

Gasps filled the air. Shuffling feet. Panic. Chaos.

I stood there, fists clenched, heart hammering like a drum in my chest. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. This wasn’t how things were supposed to play out.

And then my eyes met David’s.

The smug bastard looked almost... bored.

You son of a b***h.

You think this is over? No. This is just the beginning.

I turned slowly, the crowd parting around me like a tide. My pulse was a steady drumbeat of fury, a warning.

She ran from the altar thinking she was escaping something.

But Cassandra Jenkins just became mine to ruin.

And I always collect what's mine.

Let her run.

She’ll find out soon enough

There’s no escape from the devil when he’s wearing your ring.