Amara
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The sharp chill of the night air bit at my skin as I stepped out onto the grand terrace, leaving the suffocating heat of the ballroom behind. The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore was a faint reminder of the Kingsley estate's seaside grandeur. My heels clicked against the marble tiles as I paced, the weight of my reckless proposal settling heavier on my chest with every step.
Marry me. Tonight.
What had possessed me to utter those words? To proposition a man like Ronan Blackwood? The very idea should have sent shivers of dread down my spine, yet here I was, alone in the cold, waiting for his answer.
The ballroom doors creaked open, spilling warm light onto the terrace. I turned sharply, my breath catching as Ronan's tall figure emerged. He closed the door behind him, the soft thud of it cutting off the hum of the party. The air seemed to shift around him, charged with an intensity I couldn't ignore.
"You left in a hurry," he remarked, his voice a low rumble that curled around me like smoke. He walked toward me with deliberate steps, his dark suit fitting him too perfectly, as if even his clothing bowed to his command.
I forced myself to stand tall, to meet his gaze without flinching. "I didn't think the details of my proposal were appropriate for the ears of half the city's elite."
A glint of amusement flickered in his silver-grey eyes. "A wise decision. Though you're assuming I've agreed."
I swallowed, my throat dry. "Haven't you?"
Ronan came to a stop a few feet from me, his gaze sharp enough to peel away my carefully constructed confidence. For a moment, he said nothing, studying me with the precision of a predator. Then, with maddening ease, he leaned against the stone balustrade, his lips curling into a half-smile.
"What's in it for me?"
My hands clenched at my sides. Of course he wouldn't agree without strings attached. Men like Ronan Blackwood didn't do favours out of kindness. Every move he made was calculated, every word a tool to his advantage.
"What do you want?" I asked, keeping my voice steady. "Money? A foothold in the Kingsley empire? Say the word, and I'll make it happen."
His smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Tempting, but no. If I wanted your family's empire, I'd have taken it already."
The weight of his words settled between us, a reminder of the power he held. Ronan Blackwood wasn't just a man; he was a force—an empire unto himself. He didn't need the Kingsleys, and he certainly didn't need me.
"Then what?" I pressed, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why even entertain the idea?"
Ronan tilted his head, his gaze softening in a way that was almost disarming. Almost. "Because you intrigue me, Amara. I can't decide if you're brave or foolish. Either way, you're desperate enough to come to me, and that's worth something."
My cheeks burned, anger and embarrassment warring within me. "I'm not desperate," I snapped. "I—"
"You are," he interrupted smoothly, his voice quiet but firm. "And that's why this will work."
I blinked, his words catching me off guard. "What are you saying?"
Ronan straightened, stepping closer until the space between us shrank to nothing. He towered over me, his presence consuming, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
"I'll marry you," he said, his voice a low promise. "Tonight."
Relief flooded through me, but it was short-lived. There was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at me, that set my nerves on edge.
"On one condition," he added, his lips curving into a dangerous smile. "This isn't just a deal, Amara. It's a partnership. That means no secrets, no lies. If I'm going to play your husband, I need to know everything about you. Everything."
My stomach twisted. Everything? The thought of laying my life bare before Ronan Blackwood was almost too much to bear. But what choice did I have? If I wanted to escape my family's control, if I wanted to reclaim my future, I had to play his game.
"Fine," I said, the word heavy on my tongue. "No secrets."
Ronan's smile deepened, satisfaction glinting in his eyes. "Good. Then let's seal the deal."
Before I could react, he reached for my hand, his grip firm but not unkind. He raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving mine as he pressed a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture was calculated, deliberate, and it left my heart racing.
"To the beginning of something… unforgettable," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin.
I pulled my hand back, my cheeks flaming. "Let's just get this over with."
Ronan chuckled, the sound low and rich. "As you wish, Mrs. Blackwood."
The way he said it, like he already owned me, sent a shiver down my spine. I hated how easily he could unnerve me, how effortlessly he seemed to peel back my defences. But I couldn't afford to dwell on that now. Midnight was fast approaching, and the clock was ticking.
•••
The private chapel on the Kingsley estate was a masterpiece of old-world charm, its vaulted ceilings and stained glass casting an ethereal glow over the space. It was a place meant for reverence, for sacred vows, but tonight it felt like a battleground.
I stood at the altar, my heart pounding as I watched Ronan approach. He moved with the confidence of a man who owned the world, his dark suit and sharp features making him look like sin personified. The small gathering of witnesses—a justice of the peace, a handful of staff sworn to secrecy—only added to the surreal nature of the moment.
"You're sure about this?" the officiant asked, his eyes darting nervously between us.
"Absolutely," Ronan said, his voice steady and sure. He glanced at me, his gaze holding mine. "Aren't we, darling?"
Darling. The word dripped with mockery, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something that made my pulse skip. I forced a tight smile, refusing to let him see how much he unsettled me.
"Completely sure," I said, my voice firm. "Let's begin."
As the officiant began the ceremony, my mind raced. Every word felt like a nail in the coffin of my old life, every vow a step deeper into the unknown. When it came time for the rings, I hesitated, my hand trembling as I slipped the simple gold band onto Ronan's finger.
Ronan's touch was steady as he did the same, his fingers brushing mine in a way that felt far too intimate. "You're shaking," he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
"I'm fine," I lied, lifting my chin.
His smirk told me he didn't believe me, but he let it slide.
"By the power vested in me," the officiant said, his voice trembling slightly, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
I barely had time to process the words before Ronan stepped closer, his hand slipping to the small of my back. The heat of his touch sent a jolt through me, but it was nothing compared to the kiss. His lips brushed mine with maddening softness before deepening, the world around us fading until there was only him. It wasn't a kiss meant for the witnesses or the cameras—it was a claim, and it left me breathless.
When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed with triumph. "Welcome to the rest of your life, Mrs. Blackwood."
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