Chapter 3

Bad decisions always start with whiskey.

And right now? I was making the worst one of my life.

The world around me blurred at the edges, but the fire in my chest? That was crystal clear. Revenge wasn’t just an option—it was necessary. Jake was not about to walk away from this like nothing happened. Not after what he did.

And that was when it hit me.

Damien Blackwood.

Rich. Dangerous. Completely obsessed with me.

I laughed to myself, the sound bitter. He had wanted me for years. I knew it. He knew it. And now? I was going to use it.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts. Found his name. Hit call.

He picked up before the first ring even finished.

“Sofia.” His voice was smooth, cool, like he had been expecting this. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight.”

I swirled the whiskey in my glass. “I have a proposition for you.”

A pause. Then, a low chuckle. “Now you have my attention.”

“I need to see you.”

Another pause, heavier this time. Then: “Where are you?”

I told him the bar. That was all it took.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

No questions. No hesitation. Of course, he wouldn’t hesitate.

Damien Blackwood never turned down an opportunity.

He showed up in nine minutes.

Sleek black car. Designer suit. That same damn smirk like he owned the entire world and knew it.

And, honestly? He kind of did.

He walked in like he had just bought the place, scanned the room, and zeroed in on me. His eyes flicked over me, taking in the empty glass, the way I was leaning on the bar.

Amusement. Curiosity. Something else I couldn’t quite place.

He slid onto the stool next to me, all calm, controlled arrogance. “Sofia.”

I didn’t waste time. “I have a contract for you.”

His brows lifted slightly. “A contract?”

“A marriage contract.” I turned to face him fully. “One year.”

That got his attention. The smirk disappeared.

He studied me like he was trying to read me.

“And what,” he said slowly, “do I get out of it?”

I leaned in, let my lips curve just enough. “Everything.”

His jaw ticked.

“I know you’ve wanted me for years, Damien.” My voice was low, steady. “This is your chance. My body. My soul. In exchange for your power.”

The air between us shifted.

His eyes darkened, flicking down to my lips, then back to my eyes. “You’re drunk.”

“And?”

His fingers tapped against the bar, thoughtful. Calculating. Then, finally, he smiled.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, standing up. “If you still want this then?” His gaze locked onto mine, intense, unshakable. “We’ll make it happen.”

And just like that, he walked out.

No promises. No reassurances.

But I already knew.

Damien Blackwood never turned down an opportunity.

And I had just given him the best one of his life.

I watched Damien walk out of the bar like he had already won. Like he was so sure I wouldn’t back out, wouldn’t wake up tomorrow and realize I was making a deal with the devil himself.

And the worst part?

He was right.

I wasn’t backing out. Not now. Not ever.

I finished the last sip of whiskey, the burn in my throat nothing compared to the fire in my chest. Then I grabbed my phone, shoved it into my pocket, and walked out into the freezing night air.

It hit me all at once—the cold, the alcohol, the weight of what I had just done. But I didn’t let myself second-guess it. I had made my choice.

And tomorrow?

Jake was going to wish he had never met me.

The Next Morning

I woke up to a headache from hell and a text from Damien.

Damien Blackwood: Breakfast. 9 AM. address.

No question mark. No “let me know if that works.” Just an order.

I stared at the screen, my brain still foggy from last night. A normal person—a sane person—would have laughed, ignored it, maybe even blocked his number.

Instead, I dragged myself out of bed, threw on a pair of sunglasses because my hangover was a personal attack, and called an Uber to Damien’s penthouse.

Because apparently, I was not a sane person.

His place was ridiculous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows, black marble everywhere, the kind of expensive furniture that looked like no one was actually allowed to sit on it. I barely had time to take it all in before he walked out of the kitchen, completely unfazed, sipping black coffee like he hadn’t just agreed to a fake marriage last night.

“Sleep well?” he asked, smirking.

I took off my sunglasses and gave him a look. “Like a baby.”

“Hmm.” He set his coffee down, watching me. “So. Are you still serious about this?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

His smirk deepened, like he’d known I would say that.

“Alright then,” he said, picking up a folder from the counter. “Let’s talk details.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You already drew up a contract?”

He shrugged. “I don’t waste time.”

Of course, he didn’t.

I sat down across from him, flipping through the papers. It was all insanely official—terms, conditions, non-disclosure agreements, even a freaking exit clause in case one of us wanted out early.

“You really covered everything,” I muttered, scanning the fine print.

“You’re giving me a year of you, Sofia.” His voice was calm, controlled. But his eyes? They were anything but. “I take that very seriously.”

My pulse skipped, but I ignored it. Focused.

“You help me destroy Jake,” I said, meeting his gaze. “And in return, you get… whatever you’ve always wanted from me.”

His lips curved. “That’s the deal.”

I leaned back, considering. I should have felt nervous, maybe even scared. But all I felt was electricity.

Like I was standing at the edge of something dangerous. Something thrilling.

Something I wasn’t going to walk away from.

I picked up the pen.

And I signed my name.

Damien leaned back in his chair, watching me like a wolf that had just trapped its prey.

“You have no idea what you’ve just agreed to,” he murmured.

I met his gaze, unflinching.

“Neither do you.”