Ava woke up from a restless sleep, sweat clinging to her skin despite the cool penthouse air. Damien's kiss haunted her — not because it was passionate, but because it wasn't. It was a claim, a violation wrapped in diamonds and smirks.
It didn't help that every major gossip blog now had her face plastered all over their front pages.
> Ava Sinclair: Heiress Turned Trophy Wife?
Blackwood's Pet Project — Love or Leverage?
She tossed her phone onto the nightstand and got out of bed. She needed answers. She needed control.
But most of all — she needed to understand why Damien had married her.
---
The kitchen was empty. Ava poured herself coffee and sat at the marble counter, the ring on her finger flashing in the light like a cruel reminder.
Just as she took a sip, the elevator chimed.
Damien entered, dressed in a sharp black three-piece suit, his hair still damp from the shower. He looked like power incarnate, all precision and poise.
He didn't glance at her.
"Morning, husband," Ava said coolly.
"Don't start," Damien said, heading straight for his briefcase on the counter. "I have a meeting in twenty."
"Oh, how tragic. I thought we'd cuddle," she said sweetly.
He gave her a look — flat, unimpressed, and full of warning.
Ava stood, stepping in front of him. "Why me, Damien?"
"I already told you."
"No," she said. "You gave me a convenient excuse. You said you needed someone with a ruined name. I'm not buying that. You had options. You could've married an heiress, a model, a goddamn royal."
He narrowed his eyes. "And yet, I chose you."
"Why?"
A slow, dangerous pause.
Then, "Because you owe me."
Ava blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You don't remember, do you?" he said quietly, stepping close. "Or maybe you chose to forget. Five years ago. That night at the Sinclair Gala."
Her blood turned to ice.
"What about it?" she whispered.
Damien's voice was like a scalpel. "You embarrassed me in front of half the city. You made a fool of me when I was still building my empire. You called me 'a nobody in a rented suit.'"
Ava's mouth parted. The memory came rushing back like a slap — a younger version of herself, arrogant and bitter from her father's pressure, lashing out at anyone who looked beneath her station.
"I was a different person back then—"
"And I don't forget," Damien said coldly. "Or forgive. You ruined a deal I'd spent months preparing. Cost me my first real merger. You mocked me, publicly. That moment shaped me more than you'll ever understand."
Ava staggered back, guilt slamming into her like a wave.
"This marriage…" she whispered.
Damien's smile was cruel. "Is payback."
---
The next day, Ava was summoned again — this time to Damien's office in Blackwood Tower. It was all glass and steel, overlooking the city like a throne room built for a king.
She wore a simple black dress, her chin lifted, her walls back in place.
The receptionist — a frosty blonde named Celine — barely acknowledged her before buzzing her in.
Damien didn't look up as she entered.
"Sit."
"I'm not a dog."
"No, dogs are loyal," he said dryly. "You, I don't trust yet."
She took the seat anyway.
He finally met her gaze. "We're attending another event tonight. A fundraiser. You'll need to speak. Smile. Play the role. Convince them you're in love with me."
Ava's eyes sparked. "And what if I slip up? Call you what you are? A manipulative, sadistic—"
His chair scraped back.
In two strides, he was in front of her, hands braced on either side of the chair. Trapping her.
His voice was low and dangerous. "Then I'll destroy what's left of your reputation. And I'll do it so elegantly the public will thank me for it."
Ava refused to look away. "You're obsessed with revenge."
"I'm obsessed with power," he corrected. "And you took it from me once. Now I'm taking it back — one perfectly staged smile at a time."
She wanted to slap him. Or scream.
Instead, she smiled with venom. "I hope you choke on it."
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
Something flickered there — not lust. Not affection. Something darker. Hotter. Hungrier.
"Be careful what you offer," he said softly. "I might take it."
---
That night, Ava stood beside Damien at the fundraiser, dressed in blood-red satin that clung to her like fire. Cameras flashed. Champagne flowed. Every eye followed them.
She played the role to perfection — smiling, touching his arm, laughing at just the right volume.
But inside, she was boiling.
She hated him.
And he enjoyed it.
At one point, he leaned down and murmured, "Keep glaring at me like that and I'll have to kiss you again."
"You wouldn't dare," she said through clenched teeth.
He brushed a lock of hair from her shoulder.
"Try me."
---
Back home, Ava stormed into the penthouse and threw her clutch on the floor.
Damien followed, calm as ever, removing his tie.
"You're a monster."
"Noted."
"I was a stupid teenager when I insulted you. You've built an empire since then. And you're still so fragile you had to marry me to win?"
He stopped.
Turned.
And for the first time — the cold mask cracked.
Just for a second.
"I didn't marry you to win," he said quietly
. "I married you to make you watch."
Watch what?
Before she could ask, he walked away.
And Ava realized — this wasn't just revenge.
This was personal.