Chapter 3 The wild card

Damien's Point of View

I waited in the private lounge of the Reynolds estate, the weight of my father's demands and Nelson Sinclair's threats pressing down on me like an iron cage. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, but they couldn't rival the darkness of the thoughts swirling in my mind.

When the door opened, I remained seated, my posture rigid. She entered, her footsteps hesitant but deliberate. Aurora Sinclair.

She wasn't what I expected. I had pictured someone meek, easily molded by her father's hand. Instead, she walked in with her head held high, her vivid green eyes locking onto mine with startling defiance. The simple white dress she wore contrasted sharply with the fire in her gaze.

"Mr. Reynolds," she greeted, her voice steady, betraying none of the unease I hoped to see.

"Miss Sinclair," I replied coolly, not bothering to mask my disdain. "You're late."

A faint flicker of irritation crossed her face, but she recovered quickly. "I didn't realize this meeting came with a strict schedule."

I leaned back in my chair, studying her. "When you're entering a room to discuss a marriage neither of us agreed to, punctuality is the least you could manage."

Her jaw tightened, but she refused to look away. "Perhaps you should direct your complaints to my father, Mr. Reynolds. He's the one who forced us into this arrangement."

The mention of Nelson Sinclair brought a fresh wave of anger surging through me, but I kept my expression neutral. "Believe me, I've made my opinions very clear to your father. Unfortunately, he's made it equally clear that neither of us has a choice."

Aurora crossed her arms, her posture unyielding. "Then maybe we should be having this conversation with them instead of pretending we can fix their mess."

I stood, towering over her as I closed the distance between us. She didn't back away. Instead, she tilted her chin up, meeting my glare with unwavering defiance.

"Listen closely, Miss Sinclair," I said, my tone cold and sharp. "This arrangement is nothing more than a business transaction. You may have the luxury of playing the victim, but I won't tolerate any attempts to turn this into something it's not. Stay out of my way, and we'll get through this without issue."

Her lips twitched, and for a moment, I thought she might falter. But instead, she laughed-a quiet, humorless sound that caught me off guard.

"You really think you can intimidate me into submission?" she asked, her voice laced with incredulity. "You're not the only one being forced into this, Mr. Reynolds. Don't mistake my compliance for weakness."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're playing with fire."

She took a step closer, and I could see the determination burning in her eyes. "So are you. Don't think for a second that I'll let you or anyone else treat me like a pawn. If this is a business transaction, then you'd better start treating me like an equal partner."

Her words struck a nerve, but I refused to let it show. Instead, I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "Equality is earned, not given. Prove you're worth more than a liability, and we'll talk."

She didn't flinch, didn't back down. Instead, she held my gaze, her expression unyielding. "I'll do my part, Mr. Reynolds. But don't expect me to sit quietly while you dictate how this plays out."

The tension between us was palpable, the air thick with unspoken challenges. For the first time, I realized Aurora Sinclair wasn't just a pawn in her father's game. She was something else entirely-a wild card.

She turned on her heel and headed for the door, pausing just before she exited. "And one more thing," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Don't ever mistake me for my father. I don't play dirty. But I don't lose, either."

With that, she walked out, leaving me standing there, her words echoing in my mind.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. She was bold, I'd give her that. But boldness without control was a weakness. And I couldn't afford weaknesses-not now, not ever.

As I sat back down, my phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from my father.

"Play nice, Daemon. We can't afford to lose this deal."

I clenched my jaw, shoving the phone aside. Nice wasn't part of my vocabulary. Aurora Sinclair wanted to stand her ground? Fine. But she'd soon learn that in my world, the ground could shift without warning.

The game was on, and I never played to lose.