SINFUL DEAL

Elena Rivers knew two things with absolute certainty.

First, her career was on the verge of ruin.

Second, the man who could save it was the last person she wanted to owe.

She adjusted the strap of her satin gown, exhaling as she stepped onto the marble floors of the Blackwood Foundation Charity Gala. The ballroom shimmered with golden chandeliers, the murmur of Manhattan's elite blending with the clinking of expensive champagne flutes. It was the kind of event she used to attend with pride, back when her interior design firm was thriving.

Now, she was here for survival.

Her fingers tightened around her clutch. She had spent years building her name, proving she was more than just another designer catering to the rich. But one bad deal, one high-profile betrayal, and suddenly, Elena Rivers was the woman no one wanted to do business with.

She forced a smile as she wove through the room, exchanging pleasantries with people who, weeks ago, wouldn't have hesitated to sign contracts with her. Now, their smiles were polite, their conversations brief.

Her pulse quickened as she spotted him-Damian Blackwood.

He stood near the bar, the golden light catching the sharp angles of his face, the crisp black of his tailored suit making him look even more untouchable than usual. His presence commanded attention, even in a room full of billionaires. Some feared him. Some envied him. Elena? She resented the fact that she needed him.

She had never met him in person, but she knew his reputation well. Ruthless. Calculated. A man who never did anything without a price.

And she was about to walk straight into his world.

Taking a breath, she crossed the room.

"Mr. Blackwood," she said smoothly. "I believe we need to talk."

His gaze flicked to her, dark and unreadable. He took a slow sip of his drink before replying.

"Elena Rivers." His voice was low, unimpressed. "And why, exactly, would I want to talk to you?"

She tilted her chin up, refusing to let his cold demeanor shake her.

"Because I have something you need."

His lips curled slightly, not quite a smile, but close enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Let's see if you're right."

Elena had expected resistance. She just hadn't expected Damian Blackwood to look at her like she was already a lost cause.

The private lounge of the gala was dimly lit, the hum of the city barely audible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was quieter here-exclusive. The place where billionaires made their real deals, away from prying eyes.

Damian leaned back against the velvet-lined booth, his gaze assessing as he swirled the whiskey in his glass.

"I assume you're here because of your... predicament," he said smoothly.

Elena stiffened. She hated that word. Predicament. As if her career was nothing more than an unfortunate inconvenience.

"I'm here because you need something just as much as I do," she countered.

His lips twitched, as if amused by her confidence. "You think I need you?"

She folded her hands on the table, refusing to waver under his scrutiny. "Your PR scandal is costing you millions. Investors are wary. Your image is fractured, and from what I hear, Blackwood Enterprises is facing a level of instability you're not used to."

His expression didn't change, but the air around him seemed to sharpen.

Good. He didn't like hearing the truth.

"You're bold," he mused. "But none of this explains why I should entertain whatever you're about to propose."

She exhaled slowly.

Here goes nothing.

"A marriage," she said, her voice steady. "Yours and mine."

A beat of silence.

Then Damian chuckled, low and disbelieving. "That's ambitious."

She ignored the edge of mockery in his voice. "Think about it. You need a stable, respectable image. I need a way back into the industry. A contract marriage benefits us both. You regain public trust, and I rebuild my name."

He watched her for a long moment, eyes dark and calculating. Then he leaned forward, setting his drink down with deliberate slowness.

"You came all the way here to offer yourself as my wife?"

Elena's jaw clenched. "Don't twist my words."

His lips quirked, but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "I don't take deals lightly, Ms. Rivers. What exactly do you bring to the table?"

She refused to let him intimidate her. "A fresh start. Credibility. The kind of public trust your money can't buy."

Another beat of silence.

Then, to her surprise, Damian tilted his head, as if actually considering it.

Elena's heart pounded.

Maybe. Just maybe...

Then he exhaled sharply and sat back, shaking his head. "No."

Her stomach dropped. "No?"

His voice was cold. "I don't do temporary. If I marry, it's on my terms. My timeline. And I don't need a woman who's only looking for a lifeline."

Heat flooded her cheeks. "This isn't a lifeline. It's business."

"Business?" His eyes gleamed, dangerous and unreadable. "Then let's make one thing clear-you don't negotiate with me, Elena. If I accept, I own this arrangement."

The words sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Not fear. Something else.

Something far more dangerous.

He stood, straightening his suit jacket. "Think carefully. If you want my name, you take everything that comes with it."

Then, just before he walked away, he looked at her once more.

"If you're still serious, meet me in my office tomorrow at nine. We'll discuss terms."

And just like that, Damian Blackwood was gone.

Elena sat frozen, pulse hammering.

She had expected a fight. Had expected resistance.

But what she hadn't expected-was that he might actually say yes.

Elena stood in front of Blackwood Enterprises, staring up at the towering glass building as the morning rush swarmed around her.

She had barely slept.

Damian's words from last night had echoed in her mind on repeat.

"If you want my name, you take everything that comes with it."

And yet, here she was-at his doorstep.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as she walked through the grand entrance. The place was as intimidating as the man himself-sleek, modern, utterly untouchable. The receptionist barely glanced at her before motioning toward the private elevator.

"He's expecting you."

Elena stepped inside, her heart pounding as the doors slid shut.

There was no turning back now.

1. The Terms of a Sinful Deal

Damian's office was as cold and imposing as the man who owned it-floor-to-ceiling windows, dark leather furniture, and a massive desk that looked like it belonged to a king.

He was standing by the window when she entered, hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the city below.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he turned, his expression unreadable. "You showed up."

Elena lifted her chin. "You gave me until nine, didn't you?"

He gestured toward the seat across from his desk. "Then let's talk."

She sat down as he slid a document toward her-a contract, thick with fine print and the weight of something inescapable.

Her stomach tightened.

"You really had this drafted overnight?" she asked, picking it up.

Damian smirked. "I don't waste time."

She skimmed the pages. One year. Full public appearances. No romantic involvement required.

Everything looked straightforward-until she saw the last clause.

She frowned. "A non-compete clause?"

Damian leaned back, watching her. "If you take my name, you represent my interests. That means no competing deals, no working with my rivals. For the duration of our marriage, you belong to Blackwood Enterprises."

Her fingers tightened on the paper. "So you're trying to control me."

His gaze didn't waver. "I'm protecting my investment."

Elena exhaled sharply. "I run a design firm, Damian. I need to work. You can't expect me to put my career on hold."

"I expect you to make a choice." His voice was cool, calculated. "Do you want this deal or not?"

Her pulse hammered. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. But she also knew what was at stake.

She set the contract down. "Remove the non-compete clause."

His brows lifted, just slightly. "No."

Elena clenched her jaw. "Then I can't sign."

Damian studied her for a long moment. Then, to her surprise, he leaned forward, hands folded on the desk.

"I'll amend it," he said finally. "You can continue working. But any project tied to my competitors is off-limits."

It was still a restriction. Still a power play.

But it was better than nothing.

She hesitated-then reached for the pen.

Damian watched, his expression unreadable as she pressed the tip to paper.

One signature. One deal.

And she was his.

As soon as she finished, he took the contract and set it aside. "Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwood."

Her breath hitched. "We're not married yet."

His lips curved slightly. "No. But from this moment on, you belong to me."

A shiver ran down her spine.

For better or worse, she had just made a sinful deal with the devil himself.