The Blackwood estate was a fortress in itself. Dark iron gates loomed tall at the entrance, opening with a mechanical groan as the Harringtons' car rolled up the sweeping driveway. The mansion ahead seemed to stretch endlessly into the skyline, its glass windows reflecting the evening sun like watchful eyes. Elena's breath hitched in her throat as she looked out from the window of the car.
It wasn't just a house. It was a warning.
Inside the vehicle, Richard Harrington sat stiffly beside his daughter, his hands tightening over his cane until his knuckles whitened. The man who had once commanded entire boardrooms with a glance now seemed like a guest about to enter enemy territory.
"Elena…" he began softly, his tone carrying both apology and urgency. "No matter what happens in there, remember why we're here. For your mother. For us."
Elena nodded faintly, though her heart pounded against her ribs like a drum. She smoothed her palms over her dress..an elegant navy-blue gown chosen not for glamour, but for modesty. Still, it clung to her in ways that made her feel suddenly exposed, vulnerable under invisible eyes.
When the car halted before the towering double doors, a butler in a crisp black suit approached and opened it for them. His face was impassive, his gaze sharp. "Mr. Blackwood is expecting you," he said simply, his voice void of warmth.
Elena stepped out into the cool evening air. Her heels clicked softly against the marble steps as she followed her father inside. The grand foyer swallowed her whole, its high ceilings decorated with intricate chandeliers, the walls lined with dark art and gilded frames. Everything about the house whispered wealth and power..but not the warm kind. No, this was a place built to intimidate, to remind anyone who entered exactly where they stood.
And then she saw him.
Damien Blackwood sat behind a massive mahogany desk at the far end of the room, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He didn't rise immediately, merely leaned back in his leather chair, observing his guests with an unreadable expression.
The moment his eyes landed on Elena, however, something inside him faltered.
She was stunning.
Not in the way of polished socialites or painted heiresses he had grown accustomed to..no, Elena was different. Her beauty was raw, unguarded. Her chestnut hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, framing a face delicate yet strong, with eyes that seemed to hold an entire storm within them. And then there was her body,slender yet curvaceous in all the ways that drew his gaze despite himself.
For the briefest second, Damien's breath caught. His grip on the glass tightened imperceptibly, the faintest tremor betraying his carefully constructed mask.
But then, as quickly as the flicker appeared, it was gone.
His jaw tightened, his eyes cooled, and the devil slid the mask back on.
"Richard Harrington," Damien finally spoke, his deep baritone filling the room like rolling thunder. He set his glass down deliberately, the soft clink against the wood echoing in the silence. "You should have known I'd never expected to see you here again."
Richard cleared his throat and inclined his head in acknowledgment, his tone careful. "I wouldn't have come if it wasn't… necessary."
Damien's gaze sharpened, cutting from the father to the daughter. Elena shifted slightly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, though she refused to shrink beneath his stare. Her chest rose and fell quickly, betraying the nerves she fought to conceal.
"And this," Damien said coolly, gesturing lazily with his hand toward her, "is the sacrifice you bring me?"
Elena's breath stilled. His words cut deeper than she expected, and yet she kept her chin lifted, refusing to look away from him.
Richard took a step forward. "She is my eldest daughter, Elena. She understands what this union means. She has agreed."
"Agreed?" Damien arched a brow, standing now, his tall frame casting a shadow across the room as he approached them. He moved with the kind of grace that came from power, each step measured, predatory. Stopping just before Elena, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. He was even more intimidating up close..broad shoulders filling his tailored black suit, dark hair swept neatly back, sharp features carved like stone. His presence was suffocating, dangerous, and yet… magnetic.
"Tell me, Elena." His voice lowered, velvet wrapped around steel. "Did your father put these words in your mouth? Or are you truly willing to chain yourself to a man you barely know?"
Elena swallowed, her throat dry. She could feel her father's eyes urging her to be strong. She could feel Damien's gaze daring her to falter. Drawing in a shaky breath, she steadied herself and met his stare.
"I agreed," she said softly, her voice trembling but firm. "For my family."
Something unreadable flickered in Damien's eyes. Admiration? Amusement? Pity? He masked it swiftly, his lips curving into the faintest, coldest of smirks.
"Brave words," he murmured, circling her now, his hand brushing against his chin as though assessing merchandise. Elena stiffened, heat crawling up her neck, but she refused to move. His presence behind her sent a shiver down her spine.
"Beautiful, too," he added under his breath, almost to himself. His gaze lingered longer than he intended on the curve of her waist, the subtle tremor in her shoulders. For a second, he wondered if he should have chosen differently, if revenge was worth the risk of binding himself to someone who stirred something unfamiliar in his chest.
But Damien Blackwood did not falter. He would not falter.
By the time he stepped back in front of her, his mask was firmly in place again, cold and impenetrable.
"Very well." He turned away from them, reclaiming his seat behind the desk. "If this is the arrangement, then so be it. But make no mistake..this marriage will not be one of love or comfort. It will be a contract. Nothing more."
Elena exhaled slowly, her hands trembling at her sides.
Richard spoke quickly, desperation lacing his voice. "Damien.."
"Mr. Blackwood," Damien corrected sharply, his eyes cutting back to him.
Richard flinched but nodded. "Mr. Blackwood… thank you."
Damien lifted his glass once more, dismissing them with a tilt of his chin. "Leave the details with my attorney. I'll have the contract drawn up. You'll be contacted."
The meeting was over.
As Richard placed a gentle hand on Elena's back to guide her out, Damien's gaze lingered, just for a moment longer than it should have. The door closed behind them, and the echo of her presence remained in the room long after she was gone.
Damien leaned back in his chair, sipping his whiskey, but the taste was suddenly bitter. For the first time in years, his carefully ordered world felt slightly… disrupted.
And it was because of her.