Rain poured as I stumbled onto the empty street, mascara burning my eyes.
I didn't know how long I walked before a sleek black car stopped beside me.
The window rolled down.
"Get in."
The voice was deep. Commanding. Dangerous.
I looked up.
The man inside the car was devastatingly handsome—sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, an aura so cold it made the rain feel warm.
"I don't take rides from strangers," I said bitterly.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Good," he replied. "Neither do I make offers twice."
Before I could respond, the rain intensified, and my legs gave out.
When I woke up, I was inside the car.
Warm. Dry.
The man sat across from me, legs crossed, eyes studying me like a predator.
"My name is Lucien Blackwood," he said. "CEO of Blackwood Corporation."
I stiffened. Everyone knew that name.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"To marry you."
I laughed. A broken, hysterical sound.
"You're insane."
"No," he corrected calmly. "I'm desperate."
He slid a document toward me.
"A contract marriage. One year. You get protection, money, and freedom from your enemies."
"And you?" I asked.
His eyes darkened.
"I get to live. I should have walked away , but desperation has a voice which sounded a lot like survival.
I stared at the contract for a long time.
One year.
No emotional involvement.
Absolute obedience in public.
No questions about his private life.
"And if I refuse?" I asked quietly.
Lucien leaned closer.
"Then you'll be dead within a month."
Fear crawled up my spine.
"Your family already sold you out," he continued. "Your fiancé owes powerful people. You are collateral."
My hands shook.
"This isn't marriage," I whispered.
"It's survival."
I swallowed hard.
"Fine," I said. "I'll do it."
Lucien handed me a pen.
The moment I signed, his fingers brushed mine.
A sharp pain shot through my palm as if something had recognized me.
Lucien froze.
His eyes glowed faintly red.
"Interesting," he murmured.