Seraphina didn't sleep that night.
She lay in the guest room Damien had provided, staring at the coffered ceiling while her mind raced through everything he'd told her. The contract—yellowed and official—sat on the nightstand beside her bed. She'd read it a dozen times, searching for loopholes that didn't exist.
The language was archaic but binding. Her father had indeed signed away her future, trading her freedom for protection that had kept her alive for seventeen years. And now, three days before her twenty-first birthday, the bill had come due.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," she called, expecting one of the silent servants who'd been attending to her needs.
Instead, Damien entered, carrying a breakfast tray. He'd traded his formal evening wear for dark jeans and a black cashmere sweater that clung to his lean frame in ways that shouldn't have been legal. His hair was slightly mussed, as if he'd been running his fingers through it.
"You look terrible," he observed, setting the tray on the table by the window.
"Charming as always." Seraphina sat up, pulling the silk robe tighter around her body. She'd found it hanging in the wardrobe—expensive and perfectly sized, like everything else in this room. "I suppose you had my measurements on file too?"
"Among other things." His smile was enigmatic. "Coffee?"
The normalcy of the question—asked in this abnormal situation—almost made her laugh. Instead, she nodded and accepted the china cup he offered. The coffee was perfect, of course. Rich and dark, with just a hint of cream.
"I've been thinking about your offer," she said.
"And?"
"If I agree to this insane arrangement, what exactly would our marriage look like?" She took another sip of coffee, grateful for something to do with her hands. "Would you expect me to play the dutiful wife? Produce heirs on demand? Pretend to love you?"
Damien settled into the chair across from her, his movements fluid and controlled. "I'd expect you to be yourself. The woman who stared down a room full of vultures and showed no fear. The woman who would rather threaten them than beg for mercy."
"That's not an answer."
"Isn't it?" He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I don't want a submissive wife, Seraphina. I want a partner. Someone who can match me step for step, scheme for scheme, sin for sin."
The intensity in his voice made her shiver. "And if I can't? If I'm not the woman you think I am?"
"You are." His certainty was absolute. "Your father might have been many things, but he wasn't weak. And neither are you."
Seraphina set down her cup, her hands trembling slightly. "Tell me about my father's real killer."
Damien's expression darkened. "Lord Edmund Ashford."
The name hit her like a physical blow. "But he's—"
"The grieving patriarch whose family was supposedly murdered by Marcus Kane? Yes." Damien's voice was bitter. "Quite the performance, wouldn't you say?"
"That's impossible. He lost his wife, his children—"
"He lost his wife and two of his children. The third—a daughter named Isabel—was in boarding school at the time. She survived, inherited everything, and has been helping her father maintain his fiction ever since."
Seraphina's mind reeled. "But why? Why would he kill his own family?"
"Money. Power. The usual motivations." Damien stood and moved to the window, his silhouette stark against the morning light. "Edmund's wife had discovered some rather unsavory business dealings. She was threatening to expose him, to take the children and leave. He couldn't allow that."
"So he murdered them."
"And framed your father for the crime. Marcus Kane was the perfect patsy—a security consultant with access to the house, a gambling problem that made him desperate for money, and no alibi for the night in question."
"But if you know all this, why haven't you exposed him?"
Damien turned back to her, his smile sharp as broken glass. "Because I want more than justice, darling. I want destruction. Complete and total annihilation of everything Edmund Ashford has built."
The casual endearment sent heat spiraling through her chest. "And you need me to do that?"
"I need your name. Your connection to the original crime. With you as my wife, I can access evidence that's been sealed for seventeen years. I can reopen the case, drag every dirty secret into the light."
"And what do I get out of it? Besides revenge?"
Damien moved closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne, could see the flecks of silver in his eyes. "You get to destroy the people who destroyed your father. You get justice for a man who died believing the whole world thought he was a monster."
His hand lifted to cup her cheek, and she should have pulled away. Should have maintained distance, kept her walls up. Instead, she found herself leaning into his touch.
"You get me," he murmured, his thumb tracing across her lower lip. "All of me. My protection, my resources, my obsession with keeping you safe and satisfied."
"Obsession?" The word came out breathless.
"Did I stutter?" His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer. "I've been watching you for years, Seraphina. Waiting for you to grow up, to become the woman I knew you'd be. You think this is just about honoring a contract?"
Her heart hammered against her ribs. "What else would it be?"
"It's about the fact that I haven't been able to get you out of my head since you were eighteen years old. The fact that every man who's shown interest in you has become a threat I needed to eliminate." His grip tightened, possessive and demanding. "The fact that the thought of anyone else touching you makes me want to commit murder."
The confession hung between them like a loaded weapon. Seraphina stared up at him, seeing something dangerous and desperate flickering behind his controlled facade.
"You're insane," she whispered.
"Probably." His smile was sharp enough to cut. "Does that frighten you?"
It should have. She should have been terrified, should have been looking for the nearest exit. Instead, she found herself drawn to the darkness in him, to the carefully leashed violence that promised to destroy anyone who tried to hurt her.
"If I agree," she said slowly, "if I marry you and help you destroy Edmund Ashford, what happens after? When the revenge is complete and the contract is fulfilled?"
Something shifted in his expression—vulnerability, maybe, or fear. "Then you choose."
"Choose what?"
"Whether to stay or go. Whether this becomes real or remains a business arrangement." His hands framed her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Whether you want to be married to me, or married to my name."
The honesty in his voice caught her off guard. Here was the powerful, dangerous Damien Blackwood offering her something he'd probably never offered anyone else—choice.
"And if I choose to leave?"
"Then I'll let you go." The words seemed to physically pain him. "I'll dissolve the marriage, set you up with enough money to disappear anywhere in the world, and never contact you again."
"You'd do that?"
"I'd hate every second of it. But yes."
Seraphina studied his face, looking for deception and finding only raw honesty. This man—this dangerous, obsessive, powerful man—was offering her revenge, protection, and freedom all wrapped up in a contract that should have terrified her.
Instead, it thrilled her.
"There's one more thing I want," she said.
"Name it."
"Isabel Ashford. When we destroy her father, I want her to suffer too. She's been living off the lie that destroyed my family for seventeen years. I want her to lose everything, just like I did."
Damien's smile was pure predator. "Done."
He held out his hand, and Seraphina stared at it for a long moment. This was it—the point of no return. Once she took his hand, once she agreed to become his wife, there would be no going back. She would be bound to this dangerous, fascinating man and his equally dangerous plans.
She thought about her father, dying in prison while the real killer walked free. She thought about seventeen years of hiding, of living under a false name, of watching her back for threats that never materialized because someone else was watching it for her.
She thought about Edmund Ashford, sitting in his mansion, probably laughing about how he'd destroyed another generation of the Kane family.
Seraphina took Damien's hand.
"Mrs. Blackwood," he murmured, bringing her fingers to his lips. "I like the sound of that."
Before she could respond, he pulled her against him and claimed her mouth in a kiss that was part promise, part threat, and entirely consuming. She could taste possession on his lips, could feel the barely leashed hunger in the way his hands gripped her waist.
When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard.
"The wedding is tomorrow," he said against her lips.
"Tomorrow?" She tried to step back, but his hold on her didn't loosen. "That's impossible. We need licenses, we need—"
"Already arranged. Along with your dress, the flowers, the venue, and the guest list."
"Guest list? Who exactly are we inviting to this farce?"
Damien's smile was all teeth and shadows. "Everyone who matters. Including Edmund and Isabel Ashford."
Seraphina's blood chilled. "You're inviting them to our wedding?"
"I'm giving them front-row seats to their own destruction." His eyes were pale fire in the morning light. "You see, darling, tomorrow isn't just about making you my wife. It's about announcing to the world that the Kane family is under Blackwood protection. It's about letting Edmund know that his past has finally caught up with him."
"And if they don't come?"
"Oh, they'll come." Damien's grip on her tightened, possessive and protective. "Because Edmund Ashford has been waiting seventeen years to finish what he started. He's been hunting you, Seraphina, and tomorrow, I'm going to hand you to him on a silver platter."
Her heart stopped. "What?"
"Relax, wife." The word rolled off his tongue like honey over steel. "You're not marrying me for protection. You're marrying me because you already belong to me. And tomorrow, everyone—including your father's killer—is going to learn exactly what it means to threaten what's mine."
The morning light streaming through the windows suddenly felt cold as winter. Seraphina stared into Damien's eyes and realized she'd just agreed to marry not just a man, but a force of nature. Someone who'd been playing a game she'd only just learned existed.
Someone who'd been using her as bait all along.