The envelope was heavy, thick, and hand-delivered with just a return address. Lena Hart stared at it for a full minute before opening it, and a single sheet of pale-colored stationery slid out, the ink a refined swirl of deep obsidian black. The handwriting was unidentified, but the name at the bottom triggered her blood to freeze. Blackwood Estate. She hadn't heard that name in seven years, not since she left New York broken, frustrated, and heartbreakingly alone. Ms. Hart, you are warmly invited to curate an exclusive midnight exhibition at the Blackwood Estate, highlighting rare private works for an exclusive circle of patrons. All costs are reimbursed. There will be considerable compensation. You have to use discretion. Friday, midnight. Just one evening. —D. Blackwood Her fingers shook a little. Damien. Carefully folding the paper, she got up from her desk as the sounds of the art exhibition faded away. Marcy, her assistant, stuck her head in. "Everything okay?" Lena gave an inattentive nod. "All right. Simply put, surprising. Later that evening, she sat by herself in her apartment, the letter resting like a ghost on the table, the wine glass abandoned. Why now? Following a series of controversies involving stolen artwork, an unexplained fire at one of his properties, Damien Blackwood disappeared from the art world, and the sudden disappearance of a young artist he'd been rumored to be mentoring and involved with. None of it was ever proven. And none of it surprised Lena.She knew better than anyone how good Damien was at hiding his truths.Still... this wasn't just an invitation. It was a summons. And despite every warning in her gut, a flicker of curiosity flared in her chest.
He could have asked anyone. So why her?By Friday night, the city was humming with late-summer heat. Lena stood outside the gates of Blackwood Estate an enormous gothic manor nestled in the countryside, a two-hour drive from the city, and cloaked in mist.
The wrought-iron gates creaked open slowly, as if sensing her presence. She inhaled sharply and stepped forward, wheeling her travel case behind her. Inside, the estate was breathtaking.Vaulted ceilings. Ornate chandeliers. Marble that gleamed like bone. But it was the artwork on the walls that stole her breath some of it priceless, some of it she'd only heard of in whispers. All of it curated with precision and... obsession."Ms. Hart."The voice stopped her cold.Low. Smooth. Sinful.She turned slowly.
There he was.Damien Blackwood.Tall. Immaculately dressed in black. Eyes as dark as sin. Hair slightly longer, swept back like a man who didn't care what the world thought—as if the world already belonged to him. The years had only made him more dangerous. More refined. More untouchable.Except he wasn't untouchable to her, not entirely.. Despite the heat rising beneath her skin, she spoke calmly as she said, "Damien." "It has been a while." With his gaze wandering over her like an old memory he didn't want to lose, he answered, "Too long." "Welcome to Blackwood." The trap was set in an instant.