The Blackwood Tower was a monument of power.
Fifty stories of glass and steel, it loomed over the city like a beast watching from its throne. No one entered the top floor without permission. No one left without a deal or a debt.
And today, Arielle Monroe walked in alone.
No chaperone. No assistant. No father's protection. Just heels, elegance, and a plan.
"Miss Monroe?" The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Mr. Blackwood is expecting you. Please take the private elevator."
Arielle stepped inside, her heart steady. Her reflection in the elevator walls stared back confident, poised. But under her skin, vengeance burned like wildfire.
Lucien Blackwood was dangerous. Cold. A man with blood on his hands and whispers trailing after his name. But he was also one thing her family couldn't control.
Exactly what I need.
When the elevator doors slid open, she was greeted by silence.
A tall man stood by the glass windows, his back turned to her, dressed in black like the reaper himself. The city spread beneath him like prey.
He didn't turn.
"You came alone," he said.
His voice was deep. Calm. Amused.
"I didn't know I needed an army to meet you."
Lucien turned then.
His eyes, silver, sharp, and unreadable, landed on her.
And he smiled.
Not warm. Not kind. Just.... entertained.
"I expected tears. Or begging." He walked toward her slowly. "Not red lipstick and a business envelope."
Arielle met his gaze. "Then your expectations were too low."
He chuckled softly. "Maybe."
She placed the envelope on the table between them. "That's the contract. Terms included. Marriage. Mutual gain. Zero emotions."
Lucien raised a brow as he opened it. His eyes scanned the terms. She had typed everything, clearly, firmly.
One year of public marriage
Full cooperation at social events
Zero interference in each other's personal lives
Divorce upon agreement
No romantic obligations
"So clinical," he murmured.
"I'm not here for romance," Arielle replied. "I'm here for war."
Lucien leaned against the desk, folding his arms. "And I'm your weapon?"
"You're the sharpest one."
He smiled again. This time, something darker flashed behind his eyes.
"I heard your father's company is drowning in debt. That your stepmother's cosmetics line is quietly being investigated for fraud. That your little sister is on the verge of a scandal with a married senator."
Arielle's lips curled.
"So you have been watching."
"Of course," Lucien said. "I like to keep tabs on women who approach me with marriage contracts."
He tossed the papers back on the desk. "Why now, Arielle? What's in it for you? And don't say 'revenge.' Everyone wants revenge. It's boring."
She stepped closer.
"I don't want to win," she whispered. "I want to destroy them."
Lucien's eyes glinted.
He liked that answer.
"You're bold."
"You're rich."
"You're dangerous."
"So are you."
A pause settled between them, electric, thick with unsaid things.
Lucien studied her face like he was peeling her open.
Then, he walked over to his drawer, pulled out a silver pen, and signed the bottom of the contract.
"You'll live with me," he said casually, like he was inviting her to dinner. "People will ask questions. And I want them to know we're serious."
Arielle nodded.
"I have rules," he added. "You don't touch my files, don't ask about my past, and don't expect me to be soft."
"Good," Arielle said. "I don't like soft things."
Lucien looked at her like she was the most fascinating riddle he'd ever seen.
Then he said something that sent a chill down her spine.
"You smile like you've died before."
She met his gaze.
"I have."
---
Later That Night
The contract was signed. The news spread like wildfire.
Lucien Blackwood and Arielle Monroe, engaged to be married.
Her father choked on his wine.
Viola fainted in the hallway.
Camille screamed and locked herself in her room.
The Monroe family was burning, and Arielle?
She stood by her new bedroom window in Lucien's penthouse, glass of wine in hand, wearing silk like a queen who had just seized a kingdom.
The city blinked below.
Lucien stepped in, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled.
"You sure you're ready for this?" he asked, eyes unreadable.
Arielle turned to face him.
"I was ready the moment they buried me."