Chapter 1 The night before the wedding

CHAPTER ONE

LINA POV

The Night before my wedding

My beautiful wedding dress was hanging on a gold rack,it was shining pure white made by the absolute best designer in the country..beaded with pure diamonds...but there I was ..in the arms of a man far from whom I was getting married to tomorrow

"Spread your legs for me."

His voice was low. Gritty. Commanding.

I didn't argue.

I obeyed.

My thighs parted slowly beneath the dim hotel lights, breath catching as Damien's sea-glass eyes flicked up to meet mine dark, hungry, and feral.

"Good girl," he murmured, voice like silk-wrapped sin.

Then his head dipped.

And his mouth... found me.

Through the thin lace of my panties, his lips brushed the ache that had been burning all evening. His tongue stroked a path along my clothed heat, and I shivered not from the cold, but from the shame... the pleasure... the undeniable pull of a man who wasn't mine.

Not now.

Not ever.

It was the night.

The night before my wedding.

And here I was legs wide open surrendering to the one man I shouldn't be close to. A man I'd barely seen more than twice. A man whose name I barely knew, but whose mouth felt like it had known me in every lifetime.

Damien Blake.

The photographer.

The stranger with a camera... and eyes that watched me like they owned me.

I should've stopped it. I should've told him to leave. To take his frame, his confidence, his quiet dominance and walk out of that hotel suite.

But I didn't.

Because when he kissed me again, deeper this time .. through the lace, through my guilt ...I stopped thinking.

All I could feel was hunger. All I could taste was heat.

"I knew you'd taste like this," he said, dragging his tongue slow and firm, making my back arch off the sheets. "Sweet. Addictive. Off-limits."

I whimpered ... legs trembling, fingers fisting the sheets ...and he chuckled softly, lips still moving against me. "You like how I take my time, don't you?"

I couldn't speak. I didn't need to.

He moved the lace aside.

And everything I knew about control vanished.

His tongue was ruthless. Hot. Expert. Flicking, curling, teasing me until I was gasping his name in a voice I didn't recognize as my own. The tension coiled inside me like a live wire, and I was barely hanging on.

"Damien... oh God, please..."

He groaned against me, dragging two fingers along my slick heat before sliding them in, curling deep as his lips claimed my clit again.

My orgasm hit like lightning shattering, raw, breathless. My body convulsed, my soul split, and for a moment, I forgot what day it was. Who I was marrying. Who I was supposed to be.

When the tremors faded, he crawled up my body slow, steady, dangerous and hovered above me, shirt gone, eyes dark with need.

"You shouldn't be here," I whispered.

"I know," he replied, brushing his knuckles along my jaw. "But I had to see you one last time."

"One last time?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he kissed me.

Not like a man stealing a moment but like one claiming it. Like he was branding it on my skin.

Like he knew tomorrow, I'd walk down the aisle in white...

...still tasting him.

One Month Ago...

"I can't marry him!" I screamed, voice ricocheting off the cold walls of my father's study.

The heavy mahogany desk between us didn't make me feel any safer. Not when his face looked like stone, not when his hands were folded like he'd already made peace with selling my soul.

"Lina, lower your voice."

"I said no! I won't! I can't-"

The door swung open.

Without warning. Without knocking.

And there he was.

Carter Steele.

In all his smug, soulless glory.

He stepped into the room like a shadow stretching across the floor, sucking the warmth from the air.

"Oh, honey," he drawled, voice as smooth as poison. "Yes... you will."

His smirk spread lazily across his face as he moved closer. Six-foot-three of perfectly tailored sin charcoal suit, jet-black shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the ink curling along his collarbone. His sharp jaw was freshly shaven, his hair slicked back, and his eyes those cold, silver eyes locked on mine like he already owned me.

Carter moved like he belonged here. Like he owned the room, the deal, and me.

He sat down in my father's chair with a confidence that was almost unbearable. Propped one ankle over his knee, pulled out a sleek silver lighter, and lit the Cuban cigar he drew from his pocket.

He exhaled, slow and deliberate, smoke curling in the air between us.

Then he looked up at me and said, "The date's already set. Pre-wedding shoot is in two weeks. The wedding one month after that."

I stared at him, trembling. "You're insane."

He chuckled, deep and low. "You're late, sweetheart. The deal's been sealed. The venue's booked, the press release is ready, and the guest list's halfway done."

My breath hitched.

Carter stood and walked around the desk, stopping inches from me. His voice dipped as he leaned close, lips brushing my ear.

"Your father gets his merger. I get my bride. Everybody wins."

I stepped back. "I'm not a f*cking transaction."

He grinned, teeth flashing. "You are now."

Fury exploded in my chest. I stormed toward him, leaning in until we were nose to nose.

"Over... my dead... body."

The words had barely left my lips when

BANG!

My father's palm slammed down on the desk with the force of a gunshot. I jumped, heart hammering.

He rose slowly, the veins on his forehead pulsing, jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack.

"You will marry him," he said, voice deadly calm. "Or consider yourself disowned."

Silence swallowed the room.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

I looked from my father... to Carter... to the suffocating walls around me.

This wasn't a choice.

It was a cage.

And I had just heard the lock click.

I looked at both of them in disbelief

Looking from one man to another...then suddenly an idea came to my mind...