DAMIEN
Damien stood in his private study, the weight of the day pressing against his shoulders like a familiar cloak. The room was dark except for the faint light from the window, illuminating the neat lines of his tailored suit. He adjusted his cufflinks with practiced precision, the smooth click of metal the only sound in the silence.
"Everything is in place," Gregory said from the corner of the room. His voice was calm, as always, but there was an edge of tension in his stance.
Damien glanced at him, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Of course it is. Charles Moranos wouldn't dare back out now. He knows exactly what's at stake."
Gregory shifted slightly, his eyes flicking to the small stack of files on Damien's desk. "And the girl?"
Damien's smirk deepened. "Amelia," he said, testing the sound of her name. It felt strange on his tongue—not unpleasant, but unfamiliar. "She'll fight, I'm sure. But in the end, she'll realize it's useless."
Gregory frowned. "You're certain she won't try to run?"
Damien turned fully to face him, his expression hardening. "She won't. Because she knows what will happen if she does. Her father's life, her family's legacy… everything she cares about depends on her compliance."
"And if she doesn't care about any of that?" Gregory asked cautiously.
Damien's eyes darkened, his smirk vanishing. "She will."
He stepped closer to the desk, picking up the photo of Amelia he'd studied countless times. It was a candid shot, taken months before the deal was struck. She wasn't smiling, her expression unreadable, but there was fire in her eyes. A fire he couldn't wait to extinguish.
"She's not like the others," Damien said quietly, almost to himself. "She's stubborn. Strong. She'll try to fight me, but she doesn't realize that she's already lost."
Gregory hesitated, then nodded. "And what about Moranos? If he finds a way to weasel out—"
Damien cut him off with a sharp look. "He won't. He's a coward, and cowards don't take risks."
For a moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside. Damien turned back to the window, his reflection staring back at him like a ghost.
"Make sure everything is ready," he said finally. "This isn't just a wedding, Gregory. It's a statement. And I intend to make it unforgettable."
Gregory nodded once before leaving the room. Left alone, Damien set the photo back on the desk and leaned against the edge, his fingers tracing the edge of the frame.
He thought of Amelia's face, the fire behind her eyes when she'd confronted him in his office. She was different, yes—but that only made the game more interesting.
"I hope you fight me, Amelia," he murmured. "It'll make breaking you that much sweeter."
A slow smile spread across his face as he imagined the look on her face when she realized she was trapped. When she realized she was his.
The thought sent a surge of excitement through him. He was going to enjoy this. Oh, he was going to enjoy this very much.
As he stood there, lost in his thoughts, the city outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of his own heartbeat. A steady, relentless beat that seemed to echo through every cell in his body.
He was a man on a mission. A man with a plan. And nothing was going to stand in his way.