AMELIA
Amelia sat stiffly at the dining table, her fingers gripping the edge of her chair as her father cleared his throat for the third time. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, and she could barely look at him without feeling a fresh wave of anger.
Across the table, Damien Black looked perfectly at ease. He sat with the confidence of a king surveying his kingdom, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair. His dark eyes flicked to her, lingering just long enough to make her skin prickle.
"Thank you for hosting this little… meeting," Damien said, his voice smooth as silk, though there was an edge of mockery in his tone.
Her father offered a weak smile. "Of course. I thought it would be good for Amelia to get to know you better before the wedding."
Her father offered a weak smile. "Of course. I thought it would be good for Amelia to get to know you better before the wedding."
Amelia's fork clattered against her plate, loud enough to draw both men's attention.
"If you think a forced dinner is going to convince me to agree to this circus, you're wasting your time."
Damien's smirk widened, a flash of amusement darkening his features. "I wasn't aware you had a choice."
Her chest tightened, her fists clenching in her lap. "There's always a choice."
"Not in this case," her father interjected quickly, his tone low and warning.
She turned to him, incredulous. "So that's it? You're just going to hand me over to him like some sort of… trophy?"
Her father flinched, but Damien leaned forward, his gaze locking with hers. "I don't need a trophy," he said, his voice calm but deadly. "What I need is a wife. And what I want is you."
The words sent a shiver down her spine, though she tried to ignore it. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "And what happens if I say no?"
Damien tilted his head, as if genuinely considering her question. "You won't," he said finally, the certainty in his voice cutting through her like a blade.
"You seem very sure of yourself," she shot back. "But you don't know me."
"Oh, but I do," he said, his gaze unwavering. "I know that you'll fight because you think it makes you strong. I know that you hate being controlled. And I know that, no matter how much you want to run, you won't. Because you'll do whatever it takes to protect your father."
Amelia's breath caught, her heart sinking at the truth in his words. She looked to her father, hoping for some kind of denial, but he refused to meet her eyes.
"You put me in this position," she said quietly, her voice trembling with suppressed rage.
Her father finally looked at her, his expression tight with guilt. "I did what I had to do, Amelia. For the family."
"For yourself," she corrected sharply.
Damien straightened, the faintest hint of a smile still playing on his lips. "As touching as this father-daughter bonding moment is, I think we all know where this is headed." He rose from his chair, buttoning his jacket with a fluid motion.
"You have until the end of the week to prepare yourself," he said, his gaze flicking back to Amelia. "We'll be married on Saturday."
Her stomach twisted. "I haven't agreed to anything."
He took a step closer, the sheer weight of his presence pressing down on her like a physical force. "You don't have to agree," he said softly, his voice like a dangerous whisper. "You just have to show up."
And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving her sitting frozen in her seat.
The room fell into silence, the sound of the front door closing echoing faintly in the distance. Amelia turned to her father, her voice barely above a whisper. "How could you do this to me?"
"I'm sorry," he said, and for a moment, she thought she saw tears in his eyes. But sorry wasn't enough. Not for this.
The trap had been set, and she was caught, with no way out.