Chapter One
I didn't expect the man sitting behind the obsidian glass desk to be him.
Not him.
Not the shadow I hadn't spoken of in five years. Not the man who kissed my mother with a kind of pain that made the room feel like it was cracking at the seams.
But there he was.
Damien Vale.
He stood when I entered — tall, composed, and terrifying in his stillness.
He wore a dark navy suit that molded to his body like it had been sewn directly onto him. Underneath, a black dress shirt unbuttoned at the throat. No tie. No visible weakness. His jaw was sharper than I remembered, clean-shaven, and dusted with power. His hair was darker now, combed back with just enough disorder to look deliberate. Eyes like smoldering ash under storm clouds.
But the most dangerous thing about him wasn't his appearance.
It was his silence.
He looked at me like I was a puzzle already half-solved.
Like he'd been waiting.
And God help me… I hadn't come prepared for this.
"Miss Hart," he said smoothly, his voice low and precise. "Or should I call you by your first name now?"
I swallowed. "Selene is fine."
His mouth curved slightly, but it wasn't a smile. It was a warning dressed in charm.
"I wasn't expecting—"
"Me?" he interrupted, stepping out from behind the desk. "You should have."
He walked toward me slowly, hands in his pockets, shoulders commanding the room like he owned every inch of air between us — and he probably did. This was his building. His skyline. His throne.
And I'd walked straight into it.
I clutched my purse tighter. "I was told the CEO would be offering internship positions."
"I am the CEO."
Of course, he was.
Damien Vale didn't apply for power. He inherited it like a curse passed down through bloodlines. The stories I'd heard growing up didn't begin to touch the truth. Billionaire. Private investor. Real estate wolf. Dangerous benefactor.
And my mother's almost something — whatever that meant.
He gestured to the leather chair across from his desk. "Sit."
I sat. Because my knees weren't entirely dependable.
He moved like a man used to being obeyed — not in the domineering way of a bully, but in the quieter, more terrifying way of a man who simply expected it. Every time.
There was a long, deliberate pause before he spoke again.
"You came here for money."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement so cold and sharp it cut the air.
I nodded once, stiffly. "My father's medical bills… the insurance dropped us. I don't have—"
"A résumé," he cut in, raising one eyebrow. "A degree. A job."
My stomach twisted. "I'm trying."
He tilted his head slightly. "Trying doesn't pay hospital fees."
Anger flared in my chest, hot and messy. "Then why invite me here?"
"I didn't invite you, Selene." He leaned forward. "You walked in."
Something in my spine straightened, even as the air around me thinned.
"But I can offer you a solution," he added.
My breath caught. "A loan?"
He almost laughed — but didn't. "Not exactly."
Then he turned, walked to a cabinet in the far corner, and retrieved a thick black folder. He returned, setting it gently on the desk between us. My name was printed on the front.
In gold foil.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
It wasn't a résumé.
It was a contract.
The first line read:
One-year marital agreement between Damien Vale and Selene Hart.
I froze.
"What… what is this?" My voice cracked.
"A marriage proposal," he said as if we were discussing the weather.
My mouth went dry. "This is a joke."
"Does it look like I'm joking?"
I looked up at him, searching his face for some sign of irony or cruelty. But there was nothing. Just brutal calm.
"You don't even know me," I whispered.
He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto mine. "I know everything about you."
And when he said it, I believed him.
He probably knew the hospital my father was in. The debt collectors who hounded me. The eviction notice sitting on our kitchen counter. The part-time shifts I worked at a diner where my tips were less than my bus fare.
"But why?" I whispered, the question burning in my throat. "Why me?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he walked behind me… slowly… until his breath ghosted my neck.
Then he said the words that made my blood freeze:
"Because your mother owed me a life. And she's not here to repay it."
I stood up so fast the chair tipped over.
"You're using me to punish her?" I gasped.
"No." He stepped in front of me. "I'm using you because you're the only thing she ever cared about. And because you need saving. And I'm the only one who will."
The contract burned in my hands.
"I'm not for sale."
"Good," he said calmly. "Because I'm not buying you. I'm marrying you."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"You're sick."
He stepped forward, closing the distance again. "No, Selene. I'm a businessman. And this is a deal. One year. My last offer."
"And what happens after a year?" I whispered.
He studied me. "You walk away with your debt cleared. Your father is safe. A bank account that'll change your life. And your freedom."
I couldn't breathe.
"And in return?"
"You become Mrs. Vale." His voice dipped to a near whisper. "You live in my world. By my rules. And no one else touches you. Ever."
I backed up a step, but the wall caught me.
He followed. His hand didn't touch me, but it might as well have.
Because when he leaned in, his next words unraveled every defense I had left:
"You've been surviving, Selene. But I'm offering you more than survival."
My mind screamed run! But my body… stood still.
Because part of me — the part no one ever saw — wanted to believe him.
I didn't trust him.
But I trusted what he could do.
And that terrified me more than anything.
"Think about it," Damien said, his voice velvet and venom. "But know this — the second you walk out that door, the offer disappears."
He paused.
Then added, "So choose wisely, Selene. Do you want to keep drowning… or do you want to be mine?"