The Billionaire Investor Stolen Bride

The champagne in my glass tasted like lies.

From across the ballroom, my fiancé, Ethan Cole, flashed that charming smile everyone adored.

Everyone... except me.

Because I had just heard him sell me.

Not metaphorically. Not in some twisted romantic way.

He had literally promised me to another man.

"...the debt will be cleared once she's yours," Ethan's voice had murmured behind the velvet curtain. "She'll marry you, and my father's company will be safe."

I'd frozen, every drop of blood draining from my face.

"Good," a deep, cold voice had replied. "I don't like games, Cole. Tomorrow night, she comes with me."

It was the kind of voice that didn't ask for things.

It took them.

I'd peeked through the curtain... and my stomach twisted.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Black suit tailored like armor.

Eyes like silver blades that found me in the crowd as if he knew I was listening.

The moment our gazes locked, my heart stopped.

That was the man I was being sold to.

And he didn't look human.

"Lila," Ethan's voice snapped me out of my trance. He'd returned to my side, all charm and empty warmth. "Smile, sweetheart. This is our night."

Our night.

The words burned.

I lifted my glass, forcing my lips into something that might pass for a smile. Inside, my mind raced.

Who was that man?

Why did his presence feel like a cage closing around me?

And why, deep down, did a strange part of me whisper that running... wouldn't be enough

The engagement party was almost over.

The ballroom glittered with laughter, but my skin prickled like someone was watching me.

No-not someone.

Him.

I found him standing alone near the tall glass doors that led to the balcony.

The man from behind the curtain.

The one my fiancé had just sold me to.

He wasn't mingling.

He wasn't drinking.

He was waiting.

And every instinct in me screamed to run the other way.

I didn't.

Instead, my heels clicked toward him, as if drawn by something I couldn't name.

When I stopped a few feet away, he spoke first.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop, Lila Hart."

My breath caught.

"How-"

"I know everything about you," he interrupted, his silver gaze sweeping over me like a claim. "Your favorite flowers. The fact you hate champagne but drink it anyway in public. The way you bite the inside of your cheek when you're nervous."

He was right. I was biting it now.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice shaking.

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.

"Damien Blackwood."

The name felt like a warning.

He stepped closer, close enough for the heat from his body to touch mine. "Tomorrow night, you'll come with me."

My pulse thundered.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

One dark brow arched, as though I'd said something amusing.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, leaning so close that I could feel his breath against my ear, "you don't have a choice."

A chill ran through me.

And then-

For a fraction of a second-

His pupils narrowed into slits, like an animal's.

I stumbled back.

But when I blinked, his eyes looked normal again.

Had I imagined it?

The music swelled, and Ethan appeared beside me, slipping an arm around my waist.

"Lila, I see you've met our... guest," he said tightly.

"Guest?" I repeated, still staring at Damien.

Damien's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh, I'm more

I barely slept that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face-those silver eyes, that predatory calm.

Damien Blackwood.

Morning sunlight didn't make the memory fade.

If anything, it made the air heavier, as though the day itself was holding its breath.

By evening, I'd convinced myself it had been a bluff. Men like Damien didn't just take women in modern society.

Right?

I was wrong.

The first sign was the phone call.

Ethan's voice, low and tense:

"Don't leave your apartment tonight. Trust me on this."

The second sign was the shadow under my door.

Too big. Too still.

When I stepped closer, the door handle turned slowly-like someone wasn't worried about being caught.

"Who's there?" My voice trembled.

The door swung open.

Damien filled the doorway, dressed in black from head to toe.

Not a tuxedo this time.

This was something... darker.

"Time to go, sweetheart," he said, as if we had a dinner reservation.

I backed away. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

He stepped inside, the air shifting around him like heat off fire.

"You think you can refuse me?"

"I am refusing you," I snapped, though my knees felt weak.

He tilted his head, studying me.

Then-without warning-he moved.

One second he was across the room.

The next, his hand was around my wrist, firm but not painful, his scent-cedar and smoke-wrapping around me.

"Let me go!" I twisted, but he was impossibly strong.

"Don't fight me, Lila." His voice was low, almost gentle.

But when I looked into his eyes, they were glowing faintly.

Not human.

"What are you?" I whispered.

He smiled, and for the first time, I saw the faint outline of sharp canines.

"Something you'll learn soon enough."

Before I could scream, he pulled me toward the door.

And just like that, my world-the safe, predictable one-was gone.