Married to My Cold-Hearted CEO

first night in hell

The heavy doors of the Blackwood mansion closed behind Aria with a final, deafening click.

She was officially Mrs. Damian Blackwood.

A housekeeper in a crisp uniform led her upstairs in complete silence. When the woman opened the door to the master bedroom, Aria froze.

One bed.

Huge. Luxurious. But only one.

"Mr. Blackwood insisted," the housekeeper said softly before disappearing.

Aria’s heart pounded. She had signed the contract, but she never imagined he would make her share his room.

Minutes later, the door opened again.

Damian walked in, loosening his tie with one hand, his cold eyes landing on her immediately. His suit jacket was gone, white shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing a glimpse of toned chest.

"Comfortable?" he asked mockingly, noticing her stiff posture.

"This wasn’t in the contract," Aria shot back, crossing her arms. "I agreed to pretend in public, not sleep with you."

Damian stepped closer, towering over her. A dark smirk played on his lips.

"Relax, little actress. I have no interest in forcing unwilling women." His voice dropped lower. "When I take you, you’ll be begging for it."

Aria’s breath hitched. She hated how her body reacted to his words.

She turned away, pretending to look at the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "You really are as arrogant as they say."

"And you’re a much better actress than I expected," he replied, walking to the bar and pouring himself a drink. "That brave face you put on in front of the cameras… impressive."

He took a sip, watching her like a predator.

Suddenly, Aria’s phone rang. Her mother. She answered quickly.

"Mom… yes, I’m fine. The wedding was… beautiful." Her voice cracked slightly.

Damian watched her lie with narrowed eyes. When she hung up, he spoke again.

"You’re not just saving your family’s company. You’re saving your father’s life." He set the glass down. "I did my research, Aria. Stage 3 cancer. Expensive treatment. That’s why you agreed so quickly, isn’t it?"

Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"You’re a bastard," she whispered.

Damian walked right up to her until they were only inches apart. His scent — expensive cologne and raw power — surrounded her.

"Yes. I am." His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face. "But I always keep my promises. Your father will get the best treatment money can buy… as long as you play your role perfectly."

The air between them crackled with tension.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Damian stepped back, his expression cold once again.

"Sleep on the couch if you’re scared. I don’t care."

He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Aria standing there with her heart racing and mind spinning.

This wasn’t just a contract.

This was going to be war.