Chapter 2 2

The early morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Damon's penthouse office, painting the polished wood and chrome furniture in a soft, golden hue. Damon stood by the window, his hands in his pockets, staring at the city skyline. He had barely slept after last night's dinner with Elena Castellano.

She was nothing like the women he usually encountered in his world-those who clung to his arm for status or whispered empty flattery to earn his favor. Elena had fire. She challenged him, met his every remark with a sharp retort, and didn't once seem impressed by his wealth or power. That alone was both infuriating and oddly refreshing.

Behind him, the soft click of heels signaled his assistant's arrival. "Mr. Knight," her voice came, crisp and professional. "Your father is on the line. He says it's urgent."

Damon turned, taking a measured breath before walking to his desk. He didn't need to answer the phone to know what Gregory wanted. Picking up the receiver, he spoke without preamble. "If this is about Elena, save your breath. We're still negotiating terms."

Gregory's gruff voice came through the line. "Negotiating? Damon, this isn't a hostile takeover. It's a marriage. You don't negotiate, you commit."

"You made the mistake of thinking I'd be agreeable," Damon replied coolly. "I told you I'd meet her, and I did. Now it's up to me to decide if this arrangement benefits both parties."

"And does it?" Gregory pressed, irritation coloring his tone.

"Not yet," Damon said. "But I'm working on it."

He ended the call before his father could argue further. Gregory had always been more concerned with strategy than sentiment, but Damon wasn't about to let himself be dragged into a situation without considering every angle.

---

Elena paced the length of her studio, her fingers itching to pick up a brush but unable to focus. Her meeting with Damon had left her on edge, and she hated the feeling. He was everything she'd expected: arrogant, calculating, and far too composed for his own good. Yet there was something about him, a quiet intensity that lingered in her mind long after she'd walked away.

The door creaked open, and her best friend, Sophie, poked her head inside. "You look like you're about to murder someone. Bad date?"

Elena sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Not a date. A business meeting disguised as one."

Sophie stepped inside, her curious expression shifting to concern. "This is about that arranged marriage thing, isn't it? Did you meet him?"

"Unfortunately," Elena muttered.

Sophie flopped onto a nearby chair, crossing her legs. "And? Is he hideous? Or worse, boring?"

"Neither," Elena admitted reluctantly. "He's... infuriating. Too calm, too controlled. He acts like this whole thing is just another deal to close."

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"

"Maybe for him," Elena said, crossing her arms. "But I don't want to be part of his corporate chess game. I want to live my life, on my terms."

"Then tell your parents no," Sophie said, shrugging.

"You think I haven't tried?" Elena snapped, then softened. "Sorry. It's not that simple. My father's business is in trouble. This merger is their way of saving everything."

Sophie leaned forward, her expression serious. "Then maybe it's time to figure out what you want. If you're stuck in this, you should at least have some control over how it plays out."

Elena stared at her friend, the words sinking in. Control had always been her issue. She hated feeling powerless, hated the idea of being a pawn in someone else's game.

"Maybe you're right," she said slowly. "If I have to go through with this, I'll make sure it's on my terms."

---

By the end of the week, Damon and Elena were seated in a private conference room at Knight Enterprises. The setting was formal, but the tension between them was anything but.

Elena arrived with a folder tucked under her arm and a determined look on her face. She dropped the folder on the table between them and slid into her chair, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp.

"Before we discuss anything else," she began, "let's establish a few ground rules."

Damon raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Rules?"

"Yes, rules," Elena said, flipping open the folder to reveal a neatly typed list. "If we're going to do this, I need to make sure we're clear about what I will and won't tolerate."

Damon leaned back in his chair, gesturing for her to continue.

"First," Elena said, ticking off the items on her list, "I'm not quitting my career. I don't care how much money your family has or how it might look to the press. My art is non-negotiable."

"Fair," Damon said. "But you'll have to make appearances at certain events. My wife needs to be seen supporting the Knight brand."

Elena frowned but nodded. "Fine. As long as I have control over how often and when."

"Deal," Damon said, his voice even.

"Second," Elena continued, "I'm not moving into your penthouse. If you want to play house for the media, we'll do it at a neutral location."

Damon smirked. "Afraid of living under the same roof?"

"Afraid of losing my sanity," Elena shot back.

He chuckled, surprising her. "Agreed. We'll arrange something."

She moved on to the next point, her confidence growing with each concession. "Lastly, and most importantly, this marriage is strictly business. No romantic expectations, no shared bed, and definitely no interference in my personal life."

Damon's expression shifted, his smirk fading. "That's one condition I can't promise to uphold."

Elena's brow furrowed. "Why not? You just said this is a business arrangement."

"It is," Damon said, leaning forward. "But appearances matter. If we're going to convince our families, the board, and the public that this marriage is real, we'll need to act like it. That includes occasional displays of affection. Nothing too intimate, but enough to sell the story."

The thought made Elena's stomach twist, but she couldn't deny the logic. "Fine," she said reluctantly. "But only in public. Once the doors close, we go back to being strangers."

"Strangers it is," Damon said, extending his hand across the table.

Elena hesitated before taking it. His grip was firm, his skin warm against hers. For a moment, she felt the spark of something unspoken, something she refused to name.

"Let's hope we survive this," she muttered, pulling her hand away.

"Survival," Damon said with a faint smile, "has never been my problem."

Their deal was sealed, the terms set. But as they left the room, neither could shake the feeling that they had just entered a battle far more complicated than either of them had anticipated.