Sienna stood in the dimly lit chapel, her heartbeat a wild rhythm in her chest. Damian Blackwood wasn't real. The man standing before her—the billionaire the world revered—was Elias Carter, a ghost who had erased his past.
She should have been thrilled. This was the kind of story that would break the world in half.
But as she looked into his eyes—guarded, tormented—she hesitated.
Damian—Elias—broke the silence first.
"If you were smart, you'd walk away, Sienna." His voice was low, controlled, but she could hear the undercurrent of something else. Desperation? Or a warning?
She tightened her grip on the photograph in her hand. "And if I don't?"
His gaze darkened. "Then you'll regret it."
A slow, simmering tension filled the space between them.
"You don't scare me, Damian," she said, deliberately using his false name. "You've built a lie, and I'm going to find out why."
Something flickered in his expression. Not anger. Something else.
Then, he stepped closer.
Sienna held her ground as his scent—dark, expensive, intoxicating—wrapped around her.
"You want the truth?" he murmured. "Fine. But it comes with a price."
She swallowed. "What price?"
His lips curved into something almost dangerous. "Stay out of my way, and I'll give you the truth. Piece by piece."
Sienna narrowed her eyes. "You want me to stop digging?"
"I want to control the story," he corrected. "And you want to know the real me." His voice dropped an octave. "I can give you that."
It wasn't a request. It was a deal with the devil.
Sienna exhaled slowly. Every instinct told her to say no.
But something about Damian Blackwood—Elias Carter—pulled her in, even when she knew better.
And against all reason, she said, "Fine. But I don't trust you."
His smile was slow, knowing.
"Good." He stepped back, his voice a whisper against the silence. "Because you shouldn't."
A Dangerous Invitation
The next evening, a sleek black car pulled up outside her apartment.
Sienna glanced at her phone. No texts. No calls. Just the silent arrival of a man who always remained in control.
The driver opened the door, and she slid inside.
Damian sat beside her, his suit as immaculate as ever. But tonight, there was something different. A tension beneath the surface.
"You're late," she said.
His lips quirked. "You're impatient."
Sienna ignored the way his voice sent an unwelcome thrill through her. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
Minutes later, they pulled up to an exclusive penthouse restaurant, where the city glittered beneath them. Private. Isolated. The kind of place where secrets could be spilled without consequence.
Sienna followed him inside, her pulse steady but her mind racing.
They sat at a secluded table. Damian poured her a glass of wine, his movements deliberate.
"You wanted the truth," he said, swirling the glass in his hand. "Here's a piece of it."
Sienna leaned in. "I'm listening."
Damian exhaled. "The man I used to be—Elias Carter—died ten years ago. I made sure of it."
Her breath hitched. "Why?"
His jaw tightened. "Because Elias Carter was powerless. And I vowed never to be that man again."
Sienna stared at him, heart pounding. "You faked your death."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I did what I had to do."
Silence stretched between them.
"Was it because of your family?" she pressed.
Something flickered in his expression—pain, regret, something deeper.
"That's another piece for another night," he said smoothly.
Sienna gritted her teeth. "You can't dangle half-truths in front of me and expect me to stop digging."
Damian studied her, his gaze darkening. "No. But I can make you question whether you really want the whole truth."
Her fingers tightened around her wine glass.
He was right.
And that terrified her.
Unraveling the Mask
The night air was crisp as Damian led her onto the penthouse balcony. Below, the city stretched in endless lights and shadows.
Sienna folded her arms. "You could have stayed hidden. Why build an empire?"
Damian leaned against the railing, his gaze on the skyline. "Power makes you untouchable."
"You don't believe that."
His lips quirked. "No?"
"No," she said softly. "Because if you did, you wouldn't be standing here, feeding me pieces of your past."
His expression shifted—something unreadable, something raw.
"You think you know me, Sienna?"
"I think I'm starting to."
A charged silence hung between them.
Then—he moved closer.
The shift was subtle, but Sienna felt it everywhere.
The space between them tightened, the air humming with something dangerous.
"Be careful," Damian murmured. "You might not like what you find."
Sienna swallowed. "And what if I do?"
His gaze flickered to her lips—a barely-there hesitation.
Then, just as quickly, he stepped back.
"Good night, Ms. Clarke," he said smoothly, as if the moment had never happened.
And just like that, the tension shattered.
Sienna exhaled, watching as he disappeared into the night.
She had made a deal with the devil.
But now, she wasn't sure who was unraveling who.