One week later...
The rain hadn't stopped since the night she ran.
Ava sat alone inside the dim corner of a rooftop bar, staring through the glass as droplets blurred the lights of the city below. Her wedding dress had been traded for black slacks and a high-neck blouse. Her veil for silence. Her smile for nothing at all.
The bartender slid her another glass of something strong.
She didn't drink it.
She wasn't here to feel.
She was here to forget.
Or she had been—until a tall shadow blocked her view of the skyline.
"You look like someone who just buried a dream."
A deep, cold voice. Rich like velvet dipped in ice.
She didn't have to look up to know who it was.
Damian Blackwood.
CEO of Blackwood International. Billionaire. Ruthless. The kind of man who didn't need to raise his voice to own a room—he just had to walk into it.
Ava turned slowly to face him.
He was even more intimidating in person. Six-foot-something in an all-black suit, with storm-gray eyes that looked like they'd seen too much, and felt too little. His jaw was sharp, his expression unreadable.
"Mr. Blackwood," she said, masking the exhaustion in her voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
He slid into the seat across from her like he belonged there.
"You walked away from your wedding. Publicly. Powerfully. That takes guts."
Ava blinked. "Are you here to offer me a round of applause?"
"No," he said, leaning forward. "I'm here to offer you a deal."
Her breath caught.
"A deal?" she repeated cautiously.
Damian's lips curved, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I need a wife. You need a distraction. Let's help each other."
A laugh escaped her—bitter and tired. "You're joking."
"I'm not. My board is pressuring me to settle down. Investors want a more 'stable image.' You, Miss Harper, just became the most talked-about bride in the city. Elegant. Dignified. And dumped."
Her jaw clenched.
He continued, unfazed.
"We get married. In public, we're the perfect power couple. Behind closed doors, we live separate lives. One year. Clean break. No strings."
Ava narrowed her eyes. "And in return?"
"You get my resources. Connections. Protection. And revenge," he said, his voice now softer, more dangerous. "You want to make Ethan and Emily regret it? Be the woman who married up, not down. Make them watch."
Revenge.
The word tasted like sin.
She glanced out the window again.
Raindrops streamed like tears she hadn't shed.
Could she do this?
Marry a man she didn't know, for a deal that had nothing to do with love?
Then she remembered Ethan's smirk. Emily's gasp. The whispered lies and broken promises.
When she turned back to Damian, her voice was steady.
"When?"
Damian's smile was sharp, almost pleased. "Tomorrow morning."