Chapter 2 The Price of a Deal

There was a moment-just one-where I could have walked away.

The second before my hand met his, before his fingers closed around mine in a firm, deliberate shake, I could have told him no. Could have turned around, walked out of his glass-walled empire, and pretended this conversation never happened.

But I didn't.

Because Damian Blackwood had something I needed.

And now, I had something he wanted.

Our hands parted, but the weight of our agreement settled between us, thick and suffocating.

"You have no idea what you just signed up for," he said, watching me carefully.

I forced myself to hold his gaze. "I could say the same to you."

His lips twitched-not quite a smile, but close. "We'll see about that."

Before I could reply, the intercom on his desk buzzed.

"Mr. Blackwood," a woman's crisp voice cut through the silence. "Your legal team is waiting in the conference room."

"Tell them I'll be there in five."

I expected him to turn back to me, to give some final, ominous warning. Instead, he simply picked up a sleek black folder from his desk and walked toward the door.

And then-he paused.

"Follow me," he said without looking back.

I hesitated. "Excuse me?"

"If we're doing this," he said, his voice calm but firm, "it starts now."

I knew then, at that moment, that this was a test.

A power play.

He was waiting to see if I would hesitate, if I would back down.

I straightened my shoulders, grabbed my briefcase, and followed him.

The Conference Room: A Game of Power

The moment we stepped into the room, every pair of eyes snapped to us.

There were at least a dozen people seated around the massive glass table-Blackwood's senior legal team, top executives, and the kind of men who had built empires on whispered deals and ruthless ambition.

But I only noticed one thing.

The woman standing at the head of the table, her arms crossed, watching me with cold, assessing eyes.

Victoria Blackwood.

Damian's half-sister.

I knew her by reputation-brilliant, dangerous, and rumored to be the only person in the world who could truly get under Damian's skin. If Damian was the empire, Victoria was the shadow behind the throne.

And she was not happy to see me.

"Well," she drawled, tilting her head slightly. "I can't say I expected this."

"Expected what?" I asked, keeping my voice cool.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "For you to last this long."

Damian pulled out a chair at the head of the table and gestured for me to sit beside him.

I didn't.

Instead, I took the empty seat across from him.

A beat of silence passed.

One of the older executives cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?"

Damian didn't even glance at him. He was watching me now, his expression unreadable.

I lifted my pen and opened my notebook.

"Yes," I said, my voice steady. "Let's."

The First Crack

The meeting dragged on for over an hour.

It was business, mostly-Blackwood Enterprises finalizing contracts, discussing international expansion, the kind of high-stakes legal maneuvering that made billionaires even richer.

But underneath it, there was a current.

A silent war being fought between me and Damian.

Every time I asked a sharp question, every time I pushed back on a clause or pointed out a loophole, I saw the flicker of something in his gaze-not irritation, not quite amusement.

Interest.

And then, halfway through the meeting, it happened.

A crack in the mask.

One of the senior attorneys, a man named Jonathan Hale, was droning on about contract structures when Damian's phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again.

Victoria, who had been mostly silent, finally spoke. "You should answer that."

Damian's jaw tightened.

Another buzz. Then another.

A slow, steady rhythm.

I watched as something dark and unreadable passed through his expression.

Then-he stood.

The entire room fell silent as he pulled his phone from his pocket, glanced at the screen, then muttered a curse under his breath.

"Continue without me," he said sharply, already heading for the door.

Victoria watched him go, her expression carefully blank.

But the second he was gone, she turned her gaze to me.

And smiled.

"Congratulations," she said lightly. "You lasted longer than his last fiancée."

I blinked. "His what?"

She leaned forward, lowering her voice just enough that only I could hear.

"Oh, did he not tell you?" Her smile widened. "You're not his first fake fiancée. You're just the first one stupid enough to shake his hand in a deal."

My blood ran cold.

I didn't react.

I couldn't.

Because if I did, she would win.

So instead, I simply tilted my head, gave her my best courtroom smile, and said, "Then I guess you'll have to let me know where they went wrong, won't you?"

Victoria's smile didn't falter.

But her fingers curled slightly against the table.

And just like that, I won.

Or so I thought.

Because ten minutes later, when the meeting finally ended, I stepped into the hallway-and nearly collided with Damian.

But he wasn't alone.

He was standing in the corridor, his phone pressed to his ear, his shoulders tense.

And his face-

His face was pale.

I had never seen Damian Blackwood shaken. Not once.

But now? Now there was something in his expression that made my stomach twist.

"-Make sure they don't leave the country," he was saying, his voice clipped, low. "I don't care what it takes, Lucas. Just-keep her alive."

My pulse slammed into my throat.

Before I could stop myself, I spoke.

"Who?"

Damian turned.

For a second, just a fraction of one, his mask slipped.

And then-just like that-it was back.

"No one important," he said.

A lie.

And I knew then, with absolute certainty-

Whatever I had just walked into, it was so much bigger than me.