The first time I saw Dominic Blackwell's world up close, it felt like stepping into another universe — one built of cold marble floors, glittering chandeliers, and walls lined with priceless art that whispered stories of power and wealth.
I stood in the grand foyer of Blackwell Manor, trying to steady my racing heart. The scent of polished oak and subtle vanilla candles filled the air, but no amount of luxury could soften the chill I felt inside.
Dominic appeared beside me like a shadow — tall, poised, his dark eyes sharp and unreadable as ever. His tailored navy suit clung perfectly to his lean frame, every inch the embodiment of control. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, I sensed a storm — a man used to commanding everything around him, now standing just as precariously as I was.
"So, this is where you'll live for the next year," he said, voice low, almost amused. "Not quite the little bookstore, is it?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat, refusing to let him see how out of place I felt. "It's a house," I said, voice steady. "Not a prison."
He smirked. "We'll see how long you keep saying that."
The house was a maze of sprawling corridors and rooms that whispered secrets. Every corner bore the weight of Dominic's legacy — portraits of ancestors with cold eyes, trophies of business conquests, and glass cases filled with rare artifacts.
As I was shown to my suite, I caught a glimpse of myself in the tall mirror — a stark contrast to the opulence around me. My unruly chestnut hair framed a face that was tired but fierce, green eyes burning with defiance.
A knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts.
Dominic stood there, holding two glasses of whiskey. "Thought you might need this."
I hesitated but accepted the glass, the warmth of the amber liquid a small comfort in this foreign world.
"Why are you really doing this?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
His gaze held mine for a long moment before he answered, "Because you're the only one who's made me pause."
That admission sent a jolt through me — a crack in the armor I never expected to see.
"Don't mistake this for kindness, Harper," he warned, stepping closer. "We're enemies, remember?"
"Enemies who are stuck under the same roof," I shot back, heart pounding.
The battle lines were drawn.
The clink of ice in my glass was the only sound breaking the heavy silence between us. I studied Dominic carefully—his jaw clenched ever so slightly, eyes sharp yet oddly conflicted. The man who'd crushed my family's business, who now held my fate in his hands, was somehow more complicated than I'd imagined.
"I don't trust you," I said, voice low but steady. "And I never will."
He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I wouldn't expect you to. Trust isn't something I hand out freely."
I took a slow sip of the whiskey, burning away some of the tension tightening my chest. "So why the hell did you propose this deal? The marriage contract?"
Dominic's gaze flickered away, just for a moment, before returning to mine with razor focus. "Because you're stubborn. Because you fight."
"And because you need something from me."
"Perhaps." His voice was a low rumble, like thunder on a distant horizon. "But right now, it's your family I'm protecting. In exchange for your… cooperation."
Cooperation. The word tasted bitter on my tongue.
He stepped closer, the space between us shrinking, every inch charged with an electric tension that made my breath hitch.
"This isn't just about business, Lila," he said, voice dropping to a near whisper. "It's about control. Power. And maybe… something neither of us expected."
I squared my shoulders, fighting the pull I felt toward him. "Don't flatter yourself. I won't be your pawn."
Dominic's eyes darkened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something raw—something almost vulnerable—before he masked it with a practiced smile.
"Good. I wouldn't want it any other way."
He turned sharply and strode toward the door, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts and a glass that suddenly felt far too empty.