CHAPTER ONE: THE CONTRACT MARRIAGE
The first time Damian Blackwood looked at me, I knew I was in trouble.
Not because his eyes were beautiful.
They weren’t.
They were the kind of eyes that made beautiful things feel temporary.
I sat across from him in the private lounge of the Blackwood Tower, trying very hard not to look intimidated by the man whose name had been whispered across Lagos for years.
Damian Blackwood.
Thirty-one.
Billionaire.
Shipping tycoon.
The man who had built an empire before most people his age had figured out what they wanted to do with their lives.
And, according to every rumor I’d ever heard, a man who had never lost a negotiation.
Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t planning to become his first victory.
I crossed my arms.
“You asked to see me.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he studied me.
Not casually.
Thoroughly.
His gaze moved from my face to the simple black dress I had chosen for the meeting and back again.
I hated that I noticed.
I hated even more that my heartbeat reacted.
Finally, he said, “You’re different from your father.”
My jaw tightened.
“My father isn’t part of this conversation.”
“He is.”
“No.”
Damian leaned forward.
His expensive watch caught the light as his fingers rested against the polished table.
“Your father’s company owes my company thirty-two million dollars.”
I swallowed.
“I know.”
“Your family’s house is under foreclosure.”
“I know.”
“Your father’s health is deteriorating.”
My expression hardened.
“Don’t talk about my father like he’s a number on your balance sheet.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
Interest.
Maybe amusement.
“You have a temper.”
“And you have a habit of insulting people.”
“I haven’t insulted you.”
“You’ve been doing it since I walked in.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he pushed a black folder across the table.
“Open it.”
I didn’t move.
“What is it?”
“A solution.”
“I don’t trust solutions offered by men who look like you.”
That finally earned me a real smile.
It was brief.
Cold.
Dangerously attractive.
“I’ve been told I look intimidating.”
“You’ve been told correctly.”
“Good.”
He leaned back.
“Then we’re making progress.”
I stared at him before reluctantly pulling the folder toward me.
The first page contained numbers.
The second contained legal documents.
The third made my blood run cold.
A marriage agreement.
I looked up slowly.
“No.”
“You haven’t read it.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You might.”
“I won’t marry you.”
“You haven’t heard the offer.”
“I heard enough.”
Damian remained unnervingly calm.
“One year.”
I laughed.
“You’re insane.”
“One year as my wife.”
“No.”
“I’ll clear your father’s debts.”
My laughter disappeared.
He continued.
“I’ll stop the foreclosure.”
I stared at him.
“And your family’s company remains under your father’s control.”
I looked down at the contract again.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
“You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
“Why?”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
For the first time since I’d entered the room, something dark moved behind his eyes.
“Because I need a wife.”
“Find one.”
“I did.”
My heart skipped.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
“No, you don’t.”
His gaze held mine.
“I know you’re twenty-four. I know you graduated top of your class. I know you rejected three marriage proposals last year because you refused to marry for money.”
My stomach tightened.
“I know you secretly sold your jewelry six months ago to help your father’s company survive.”
My lips parted.
“And,” he added quietly, “I know you haven’t told your father that you paid his hospital bill with your own savings.”
I went completely still.
“How do you know that?”
He said nothing.
“Damian.”
“Sign the contract.”
I pushed the folder away.
“You’ve been investigating me.”
“I investigate everyone who enters my life.”
“I’m not entering your life.”
“You are.”
His confidence infuriated me.
I stood.
“Then you’ve wasted your time.”
I turned toward the door.
“Aria.”
I stopped.
It was the first time he’d said my name.
His voice was different.
Lower.
Almost intimate.
I turned around.
He was standing now.
Six feet of controlled power.
He walked toward me slowly.
I refused to step backward.
Even when he stopped only a few feet away.
“You came here because you have run out of options.”
My pride burned.
“I’ll find another one.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.”
“How much time do you have?”
I said nothing.
“Seventy-two hours,” he answered for me. “That’s when the bank takes possession of your family home.”
My stomach dropped.
He stepped closer.
“Your father’s company has creditors waiting for the first mistake.”
Another step.
“And your father’s condition means he won’t survive another financial shock.”
“Stop.”
He did.
But his eyes didn’t leave mine.
“I’m offering you a way out.”
“You’re offering me a cage.”
“A cage?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“What makes you think you couldn’t walk out whenever you wanted?”
“Because men like you don’t give anything without taking something bigger in return.”
For the first time, his expression became unreadable.
Then he said quietly,
“You’re right.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“What do you want?”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“You.”
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
I should have laughed.
I should have walked away.
Instead, I stood there staring at him, painfully aware of how close he was.
“You don’t even know me,” I whispered.
“I know enough.”
“And what happens after one year?”
“You leave.”
“And that’s it?”
His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth.
“That’s what the contract says.”
Something about the way he said it made my pulse race.
I stepped away.
“I need time.”
“You have until midnight.”
I frowned.
“That’s less than twelve hours.”
“Correct.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
I grabbed the contract.
“I’m taking this.”
“Take it.”
I headed for the door.
Then his voice stopped me again.
“One more thing.”
I looked back.
“Don’t investigate me.”
My brow furrowed.
“Why?”
His face became completely expressionless.
“Because you may not like what you discover.”
I stared at him for several seconds.
Then I left.
The moment the elevator doors closed, I exhaled.
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.
I looked down at the contract in my hand.
One year.
One marriage.
Thirty-two million dollars.
It sounded simple.
It wasn’t.
Nothing involving Damian Blackwood could possibly be simple.
When I reached the parking garage, my phone rang.
My father’s number.
I answered immediately.
“Dad?”
There was silence.
“Dad?”
A weak voice finally answered.
“Aria…”
My heart sank.
“What happened?”
“I need you to come home.”
“Are you okay?”
Another silence.
Then he said something that made the world beneath my feet disappear.
“Someone came looking for your mother.”
I stopped breathing.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
I stared into the darkness of the parking garage.
My mother had been dead for eighteen years.
“What did they want?”
My father began to cry.
And that frightened me more than anything Damian Blackwood had said.
“Your mother didn’t die in an accident.”
My fingers went numb.
“What?”
“There are things I should have told you.”
“Dad, what are you talking about?”
Before he could answer, the call disconnected.
I immediately called back.
No response.
Again.
Nothing.
My hands trembled.
Then I noticed something tucked beneath the windshield wiper of my car.
A white envelope.
No name.
No address.
Just my initials.
A.B.
I opened it.
There was a photograph inside.
An old photograph.
My mother stood beside a younger version of Damian Blackwood.
But Damian wasn’t the person who frightened me.
It was the man standing between them.
A man I had seen only once.
At my mother’s funeral.
A man everyone had told me was dead.
I turned the photograph over.
Four words were written on the back.
ASK DAMIAN ABOUT HIM.
My heart stopped.
Because beneath the message was a second sentence.
And ask him why he chose you.
