"Pardon?"
Perhaps he had heard wrong. Maybe it was just a trick of the wind sneaking into the suffocating room. But then—
She repeated the words. Calm. Unbothered. Like they meant nothing.
"Marriage. A marriage would make you change your mind, would it not?"
She had to be mad.
He stared at her, eyes wide, thoughts racing. The only conclusion he could draw? The Graves were all insane. What made her think—how could she possibly believe—that he would…
"I offer myself," she said, voice steady, like this was a boardroom negotiation and not sheer lunacy. "My body, in exchange. You will forget your plans to crush my family and grind us into dust."
He didn't blink. He didn't speak. He only stared, waiting for the punchline, the smirk, the laugh that would prove she was jesting.
But none came.
Only the same cold defiance he'd seen before—bold, unflinching, and completely, terrifyingly real.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
Now that she had mentioned marriage, his gaze betrayed him—sweeping over her body. The same body that haunted his nights, kept him awake with thoughts he had no right to entertain.
This was wrong. He knew it.
He wanted to look away, should have looked away—but he couldn't. Not for all the money in the world.
She was impossible to ignore. Like a sea goddess risen from the depths, calling him to drown in her embrace.
The maroon blazer and skirt she wore should have dulled the temptation, but they only clung to her figure, teasing his restraint. Her skin, smooth and unblemished, glowed like temptation itself.
God help him, she was perfection. And for a moment—just a heartbeat—it felt like she could soothe the storm raging inside him.
But no.
This rage couldn't be tamed by beauty. Not when it was carved from loss.
He glared at her, "Do you take this as a joke?" His voice cut through the air, cold and sharp. "Am I supposed to turn a blind eye to everything? After everything that's happened?"
No. He wouldn't let lust cloud his judgment.
Seven years.
Seven years behind bars. Seven years without his mother's frail hand in his. Without his business. Without sunlight. Without the comfort of his own damn coffee, made just the way he liked it.
It had broken him. And if he gave in now—if he accepted her offer—it would mean he was weak. That he could be swayed by the curve of a woman's body.
And he… Damien Cole… was no fool.
Her gaze stayed calm.
No flicker of fear. No sign of retreat.
Even in the face of his rage, his cold refusal, her eyes sparked with quiet fire, and her lips curved in a faint, unreadable smile.
But inside—
Inside, she was trembling.
She didn't know what he might do, how far he was willing to go to break her. Damien Cole wasn't like the other men she'd encountered. He didn't wear his emotions on his sleeve, didn't play by predictable rules.
He was a hard nut to crack.
And for someone as calculated as she was, the uncertainty clawed at her. She couldn't read his next move, and she didn't want to.
Right now, all she could do was act. Do what she must to save herself.
Later...Later, in the silence of night, maybe then she would yell at herself and cry.
Damien's expression was carved from stone, but his eyes flicked over her with quiet suspicion. "I have enough," he said, voice low, a venom-laced whisper. "Enough to bring this company to its knees. Your father's sins? I could expose them all. This empire would collapse before sunrise. But first—"
He leaned forward, words like cold steel.
"I must ruin you."
Alina shivered. Of course he had a plan.
Seven years in prison would do that—give a man time to think, to plot, to sharpen his vengeance like a blade. If he wanted, he could destroy her now. Tear the company apart in seconds. She knew it.
Which was why she had to act.
She had only one weapon left. One desperate card to play.
And that… was marriage.
"You aim for marriage," he said at last, voice low and rough like a distant rumble. "Do you even understand what that means? You'd be giving me your body—offering more than just a bargain."
Yes, he intended to ruin her. But only because she stood between him and his true goal: bringing the company to its knees.
He hadn't planned to destroy her completely—not for her father's sins.
But marriage?
Did she even grasp the weight of her words?
Why would she do this to herself?
Did she love her father that much—enough to throw herself into the fire just to keep him from being exposed as the villain he truly was?
Anger flickered in his eyes. The thought burned deeper than it should have.
She stepped closer.
Too close.
He wasn't ready for it.
His breath caught, his mind stuttered. Her scent—sweet like honey and summer heat—wrapped around him, pulling him under.
Christ. She smelled divine.
He stared, cursing the thoughts crawling into his head.
What would she taste like?
Damn it.
Why did she have to be a Graves?
"If giving you my body will erase what my father did to you… then fine. I'll give it to you. Take it."
She raised her chin, eyes unblinking. "But don't expect my heart. That's the one thing you will never have."
He hadn't expected that.
Not the words.
Not the steel in her voice.
Not the fire behind her sacrifice.
Now he was the one trapped.
Caught in the silence that followed, in her defiance… and in the flames he had sworn to burn her with.
A low growl escaped his throat.
And before reason could pull him back, he slammed her against the wall, hands on either side of her head, breath hot against her skin.
"What are you?" he whispered, voice rough. "Is this seduction? A trick to make me forget everything?"
She didn't flinch. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her face—her eyes—remained stoic.
"I'm giving you my body," she said quietly. "That alone is enough to break me.
And that… should be enough to make you quit."
Grey eyes locked onto brown, and the confidence he found staring back at him made him curse under his breath.
Damn her.
He wanted to ruin her right here. Wanted to find a way—'any' way—to hurt her.
But instead, he was drowning in her gaze.
In her silence.
In that quiet, unshakable strength that wrapped around her like armor.
The closer he got, the more she pulled him in.
And he hated it.
He hated how much he couldn't look away.
"Hey!"
A voice rang out behind them, sharp and loud. "What do you think you're doing?!"