I signed the papers without a blink.
Cold calculation, that's my creed. Merge empires through blood and ink, no room for weakness. They handed me her - the rival's prized asset, all sharp edges and guarded fire, eyes that dare you to break her first. Transactional isolation carved those lines into her face; she craves devotion like a secret sin but bites back every inch.
Our wedding? A fog-choked ceremony under sodium dock lights, vows tasting like gunmetal. I planned to keep her at arm's length, a strategic trophy to parade, her body mine by contract alone. But her defiance hooks deeper than any blade. That first night in the glittering penthouse, sweat-slicked skin crashing together, her nails drawing blood as she fights what she wants. Feels like betrayal every time - to the families, to the fragile empires we bind.
Locked office, surveillance screens flickering like guilty witnesses, we devour each other on the desk, her gasps turning my strategies to ash. She's vulnerability wrapped in thorns, the one crack in my volcanic restraint. I growl possession into her ear, mean every word, even as it terrifies me. Dawn balcony, rain lashing our bare forms, her head on my chest in a tender vise - impossible peace amid the storm we ignite.
Her self-respect, that hard-won solitude, the whole damn legacy hangs by our next breath. One obsessive touch too far, and it all shatters into possessive wreckage. I was the enforcer meant to own her on paper. Now her fire breathes for me - but can cold strategy survive the woman who burns it down?
