CHAPTER 2: The Fine Print
Elara stared at the thick contract again, her fingers trembling around the pen.
The mansion was silent, except for the low hum of distant thunder. Somewhere, rain still tapped against the tall windows. Damien had disappeared hours ago, leaving her alone with ink, paper, and the weight of her future.
She didn't sleep.
She read every page.
Clause after clause.
Rule after rule.
No sexual contact unless publicly necessary.
No romantic entanglements outside their arrangement.
No interference in company affairs.
Strict emotional and physical boundaries—except when he decided otherwise.
It was cold. Clinical. Domineering.
Exactly what she expected from a man like Damien Blackwood.
But what chilled her more was what she'd discovered while rummaging through the folder he left behind. A single misplaced paper, folded between financial documents.
Blackwood International – Acquisition Records: Monroe Technologies.
Her father's company.
And Damien's signature at the bottom.
Her throat locked.
She had spent two years blaming herself for not doing more, not saving her family's business before it collapsed under hostile takeover.
She thought it was the market. The banks. A faceless boardroom decision.
But no.
It was him.
Damien Blackwood.
He didn't just buy her.
He ruined her father.
Her father who died of a heart attack six months later. Her father who drank himself into silence because of that failure.
She blinked against the burning in her eyes.
The bastard didn't even hide it. She doubted he even remembered the name of the man he destroyed. It was probably just another deal to him.
But to her… it was war.
Elara's hand curled into a fist around the pen.
Fine. She'd play the part.
The fake fiancée. The obedient doll.
She'd smile for the cameras. Bat her lashes. Let the world believe she belonged to him.
And then?
She'd gut his empire from the inside.
Elara raised her head and slowly signed her name at the bottom of the contract.
Elara Monroe.
She blew gently on the ink, sealing her decision with a whisper.
"I'll destroy you for what you did to my father."
"About time."
His voice came from the doorway.
She jumped, startled.
Damien leaned casually against the wall, watching her with that unreadable smirk. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms roped with muscle and veined like marble.
He always looked like sin tailored in silk.
"I didn't realize you were watching me," she said coldly.
"I always watch what I own."
Her skin bristled, but she forced a tight smile. "Then I hope you like what you see."
He strode toward her, plucking the contract from the desk.
"Elara Monroe," he murmured, scanning the signature. "Congratulations. You've just sold your soul."
He turned toward the door. "Follow me."
She hesitated. "Where are we going?"
Damien didn't answer. He simply said, "Try not to embarrass me."
She followed him into a room that looked like a boutique showroom—floor-length mirrors, satin-draped mannequins, and a clothing rack filled with designer gowns in every shade of sin.
A young female stylist bowed her head and rushed out the moment Damien gestured at her.
He picked a dress from the rack—a deep scarlet piece barely held together by thin straps and glittering stones. It was more lingerie than gown.
"No," Elara said instantly. "That's not an engagement dress. That's a stripper's farewell outfit."
He walked closer, holding the dress up to her body.
"It's what you'll wear for our public photoshoot. The engagement announcement."
Her jaw dropped. "There are cameras? Today?"
He leaned in. "There are always cameras now, darling."
"I'm not wearing that."
"You signed the contract," he said simply.
She hated the way he twisted that word, "contract," like it meant she belonged to him in every way that mattered.
Still, she held her ground. "I'll wear something appropriate."
"This is appropriate," Damien said smoothly. "It tells the world who you belong to. That I can take the daughter of a fallen man and dress her in red silk like a trophy."
His voice dropped.
"It tells them that no one touches what's mine. Not even with their eyes."
Her heart raced. A strange mix of shame and defiance filled her chest.
She snatched the dress from his hand. "Fine."
She turned her back and began to undress, slowly. Not because she wanted to—but because she refused to let him see her flinch.
She stepped into the gown, ignoring the way the cool silk kissed her thighs, how exposed her spine felt with the low back, how every inch of her screamed danger.
Damien moved behind her.
Wordlessly, he zipped it up.
His knuckles brushed her skin.
She bit her lip, refusing to react.
But her body betrayed her—goosebumps rose along her neck. Her breathing slowed.
And she saw his eyes in the mirror. Focused. Hungry.
"You clean up nicely," he murmured.
"Don't get used to it," she whispered back.
"Oh, I will," he said. "And so will you."
As Damien walked out to prepare the press room, Elara slipped her phone out of her purse and opened a hidden messaging app.
She hadn't used it in over a year—not since her father died.
ELARA: Need everything you can find on Damien Blackwood. Especially Monroe acquisition. Did he bribe the board? Threaten anyone? Anything illegal?
She pressed send.
A moment later, the reply came:
UNKNOWN: It wasn't just the board. There's more. And you're not going to like it.
Her stomach dropped.
Before she could type again, the door creaked open.
Damien stood there.
Expression unreadable. Hands in pockets. Watching her.
"Something important?" he asked casually.
She quickly locked her screen. "Just my mom checking in."
"Of course," he said, smiling faintly. "You'll find lying to me gets very… costly."
And then he stepped aside, revealing someone behind him.
A woman.
Tall. Elegant. Blood-red lips and sharp stilettos that clicked against the marble like a countdown to war.
"Elara," Damien said, voice cold. "This is Vivienne."
"She'll be handling your etiquette, wardrobe—and attitude."
Vivienne's smile was a blade. "You're going to need a lot of work before you're ready to be Damien Blackwood's fiancée."
Elara straightened. "I don't take orders from your ex-girlfriends."
Vivienne's smile widened. "Oh honey. I'm not his ex. I'm the one who trained the others."
> Damien stepped closer, whispering into Elara's ear:
"Lesson one begins tonight. Wear nothing but obedience."