Rain streaked across the windshield like the sky itself had decided to mourn the setting sun. Ava Sinclair pressed her phone to her ear, half jogging toward the curb as the tires of passing cars splashed puddles against her heels. She cussed. Her umbrella had betrayed her two blocks ago, crumpling in the wind like a cheap paper fan.
"He moved up the meeting? Again?" she asked sharply, her breath fogging in the cold air.
"Yes, and it starts in fifteen minutes," her assistant, Lila, replied. "Mr. Blackwood made it clear that he doesn't exactly like to be kept waiting."
Ava gritted her teeth as she cussed again. Damian Blackwood. Even his name sounded like something out of a gothic novel. Billionaire. Recluse. Nightmare client. She'd only been handed his file a week ago and she had already heard more gossip and half-truths about him than she cared to count.
Cold. Arrogant. Unmatchable. And somehow, still Ivara Connections' top priority. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was trying to be impossible on purpose. She had been trying to matchmake him for ages. He was just difficult.
Her gaze landed on a sleek black car idling at the curb. No markings. Tinted windows. It matched the description her assistant had texted. Without second guessing, she pulled the door open and climbed inside the car.
Warmth immediately embraced her, a stark contrast to the rain outside. She sank into buttery leather seats, letting out a long sigh as she shook off droplets of water from her coat.
"Finally," she muttered. "If he makes me wait more than five minutes, I swear…"
Feeling a presence beside her, she turned and froze.
The man sitting beside her was not her driver.
Tall. Immaculately dressed in a dark three-piece suit that seemed tailor-made to his commanding frame. His presence filled the car like a shadow taking shape. Raven black hair slicked back, sharp jawline, and a heavenly gorgeous face that was curved to perfection. Too composed, too still.
His eyes, however, were what truly struck her. Piercing gray, like storm clouds rolling in before thunder.
He was staring at her.
Not in confusion. Not in offense.
In amusement. Ava felt small under his gaze.
"Well," he said, his voice smooth and deep, laced with cool irony. "This is unexpected." He had a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Ava's heart skipped as she immediately realized her mistake. "Oh my God. I…" She grasped for the door handle but the car was already on the highway. "I am so sorry. I thought this was my ride…"
"You were ranting about Damian Blackwood," he continued, unbothered. "Please, go on. I was rather enjoying it."
Her mouth opened and then closed. Panic and mortification warred inside her as her brain scrambled for answers.
The driver said nothing. He simply continued down the street, like this had all been preordained.
Ava turned slowly, cautiously. "Wait... this isn't a private hire, is it?"
"No," he said. "It's my car. Relax, you're not being kidnapped. You got in on your own."
Ava went silent as her eyes widen in recognition.
She blinked.
No. No, it couldn't be.
But as she looked closer at the glint of his cufflinks, the subtle scar near his right temple that matched the one in his file photo, the signature silver ring on his index finger, her stomach dropped.
Oh no.
He knew exactly who she was.
Damian Blackwood. He looked at her in amusement like he was watching a comedic series.
Ava on the other hand, her throat went dry. Her boss had warned her he was intimidating, but the word didn't do justice to the sheer pressure his presence exerted. It wasn't just his wealth or reputation. It was something older, something darker, like standing too close to a cliff's edge. The aura he emitted was intense.
"You recognized me," she whispered as she struggled for words. "Why didn't you say anything?"
He tilted his head slightly. "I was curious how long it would take."
The car slowed, pulling up to a gated building wrapped in ivy and security cameras. He reached for the door handle, pausing just before exiting.
"Come inside, Miss Sinclair."
Her spine straightened. "Excuse me?"
"You're already late." he said. "You might as well attend the meeting you were ranting about."
She should've said no. She should've apologized again and walked away.
But something about his voice, something about the challenge in his eyes made her lift her chin and follow.
Inside, the Blackwood estate was exactly what she expected from a man rumored to live like a ghost: modern minimalism layered over Gothic bones. Cold marble floors, towering ceilings, and artwork that felt like it stared deep into Ava's soul.
He led her into a sitting room lined with bookshelves, floor to ceiling windows. Chandeliers hung above them, the rain casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. The estate looked modern while having an ancient feel to it.
Damian gestured for her to sit. "Tea?"
She hesitated, then lowered herself into the armchair opposite his. "I wasn't prepared for this."
"You weren't prepared to sit in the wrong car or to meet me this soon?"
She couldn't tell why she flinched. "Both."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. It was brief and not kind.
"You're Ivara's best matchmaker. At least that's what I was told."
She straightened, regaining some footing. "Yes. I am."
"And yet you can't tell a chauffeur from a client." A teasing smile played on his lips.
Her jaw tensed, but she forced a professional smile. "Mistakes happen."
His gaze sharpened as he watched her. "You're nervous."
"No. I'm just... adjusting."
"To what?"
"Your aura," she blurted before thinking. Her cheeks flushed. "I mean... the energy you give off. It's intense."
"I get that a lot."
Of course he did. The way he watched her, it felt like a predator would to it's prey.
But as she looked at him more closely, she noticed something beneath the cold exterior, a tightness at his temples. The way he moved with caution. The way his fingers instinctively went to undo another top botton of his sleeves. He looked like a man used to control. But not at peace. Damien Blackwood, his entire being screamed secrets, his eyes like it held thousands of them.
"You requested me personally," she said. "Why?"
"Because I need someone capable. Someone who won't waste my time."
She nodded slowly. "Fine. Then let's begin with the basics. Why do you want a partner and what are you looking for in one?"
He leaned back in his chair, watching her the way a hunter would watch a doe.
"I'm not."
She blinked in confusion as she struggled to register his words. "Excuse me?"
"I don't want a partner."
"Then why…"
"I want a arranged wife," he interrupted. "One year. A contract. No romance, no delusions. Just a name on paper."
Silence bloomed in the room like a thunderclap.
Ava stared at him, bewildered. "You're serious."
"Painfully."
"That's not how matchmaking works."
"It's how this will work. Or not at all."
She felt her professional poise beginning to crack. "Mr Blackwood, contract marriages is not what I do or officiate. I am a matchmaker. Why? Why do you need a fake marriage when you can have a real one?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood and walked to the window, staring out at the rain. His silhouette was sharp against the gray sky, like he belonged to the storm.
"My thirty third birthday is in six months."
She frowned. "And that matters because...?"
He turned slowly, his expression unreadable. "There's a family legend. A curse."
Ava stared at him in confusion, her eyes struggling to meet the intensity in his. "I don't quite follow Mr Blackwood."
"I have a curse on him."
She stared. "You're joking."
"Do I look like a man who jokes?"
Her voice dropped. "You believe it?" Does he actually believe he has a curse on him? Ava now believed that not anyone who actually looked normal was normal.
He was quiet for a moment too long.
"I've had three near death experiences in the past year. Each one stranger than the last. A plane crash that wasn't reported. An elevator that dropped ten floors and then... stopped. No explanation. A fire in my office."
Ava's chest tightened. "I took you for a man of logic but this is what you fancy? Witches, black magic, curses?"
He didn't look at her. "Every Blackwood heir must be married before thirty three, or suffer... consequences."
Her logical mind wanted to laugh. To dismiss it as madness. But something in his voice, something haunted stilled her tongue.
"You think a contract marriage is enough to fool fate? This curse or whatever this is?"
"I don't believe in fate. I believe in loopholes."
She exhaled slowly. "And if I say no?"
He finally met her eyes. "Then I find someone else. But I'd prefer it be you."
She shook her head. "Why me?"
"Because you don't seem impressed by me. Because you look me in the eye when most people won't. Because you're smart enough to walk away, but curious enough to stay. Lastly, you amuse me."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Outside, thunder cracked as the rain continued to drop heavily.
"I'm here for your amusement."
Damien hummed. "You're not."
Ava stood slowly. Her heart pounded, but her voice was calm.
"I'll think about it."
Damian inclined his head. "That's all I ask."
As she stepped into the hallway, the shadows behind her seemed to stretch just a little too long. A flicker of movement in the corner of her eye made her turn, but there was nothing there.
Just silence.
And the echo of a decision that might already have been made.