By the time Zina got home, she wanted nothing from the world.
She had spent the entire day surrounded by people who needed decisions from her, people who wanted explanations, signatures, reassurance and answers she wasn’t always prepared to give.
The announcement of her marriage had only made everything worse.
Her name was suddenly everywhere, attached to a man she was still learning how to understand.
She closed the front door behind her and stood in the quiet foyer for a moment.
This was the part of the day she preferred.
No boardroom.
No shareholders.
No family politics.
No one watching her to see whether she was strong enough to carry her father’s name.
She slipped off her heels, left them beside the console and went upstairs.
A long shower helped, though not as much as she had hoped.
By the time she came downstairs, her damp hair rested over one shoulder and she was dressed in loose black trousers and a simple camisole.
She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
Chicken.
Vegetables.
Rice.
Good enough.
Cooking had always been one of the few things that quieted her mind.
There were no complicated motives in a kitchen.
You followed the recipe, adjusted when necessary and hoped the result was edible.
She had just started cutting vegetables when her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Damien.
A smile appeared before she could stop it.
That annoyed her.
She answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello, fiancée.”
His voice was low, smooth and far too familiar already.
Zina paused, knife resting against the cutting board.
There it was again—that strange flutter low in her stomach whenever he called her something that made the arrangement between them sound almost natural.
She ignored it.
“So you just dropped the bomb about our marriage online without any heads-up?”
There was a quiet laugh on the other end.
“You’re accusing me of announcing our marriage?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“I do.”
His amusement faded into something more serious.
“You’re right. I should have called you first.”
Zina resumed cutting the vegetables.
“I needed to control the story before somebody else did.”
“I understand.”
“You’re not angry?”
“No.”
“Not even disappointed?”
“No.”
She waited.
“Surprised,” he added.
She smiled.
“That sounds more honest.”
“It is.”
The knife moved steadily through the vegetables.
“I suppose you had a busy morning.”
“I had an exceptionally busy morning. Three newspapers called. Two television stations wanted interviews. Someone I haven’t spoken to in eleven years somehow heard about the wedding and decided she was entitled to an invitation.”
Zina laughed.
“You’re serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I didn’t know you had fans.”
“I don’t.”
“Then what are they?”
“Optimists.”
She laughed again, and Damien was quiet for a moment.
When he spoke, his voice had softened.
“Are you all right?”
The question caught her off guard.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I’ve had a long day.”
“So have I.”
She leaned against the counter.
“I don’t know why everyone is acting as though I announced a national emergency.”
“Because you announced a marriage.”
“A marriage that was already happening.”
“Not publicly.”
She looked down.
“I know.”
For a moment, the conversation lost its humor.
Zina didn’t know how to explain what the announcement had done to her.
Marriage had been a clause.
A deadline.
A condition her father had created before he died.
It had never been something she had sat down and imagined for herself.
Yet now, with the world calling Damien her fiancé, she had discovered something she hadn’t expected.
She didn’t completely hate the idea.
That frightened her more than the marriage itself.
She had spent years keeping men at a distance because she understood what they wanted from her.
Her father’s name opened doors.
His money created opportunities.
Being Chike Eze’s daughter made her valuable before anyone bothered to learn who she was.
So she stopped looking.
Stopped hoping.
Stopped caring.
It was easier.
Damien was different.
Not because she knew he loved her.
He didn’t.
Not because she loved him.
She wasn’t ready to call what she felt love.
But because he seemed interested in the woman underneath everything she had inherited.
And she was beginning to enjoy being around him.
That was the dangerous part.
She could handle an arranged marriage.
She could handle a legal agreement.
What she wasn’t sure she could handle was wanting the man she had never intended to want.
“Zina?”
She realized he was still on the phone.
“Yes.”
“You disappeared.”
“I was thinking.”
“About the wedding?”
She hesitated.
“Among other things.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
She straightened.
“You’re coming here?”
“If that’s all right.”
She looked around the kitchen.
“I was making dinner.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I can hear you.”
She stared at the phone.
“That is still unsettling.”
“I’m not listening to your kitchen. I’m listening to you.”
She didn’t know what to say to that.
So she said the first thing that came to mind.
“Come over.”
“All right.”
The call ended.
Zina stared at the screen.
She hadn’t planned on inviting him.
She hadn’t planned on smiling either.
Apparently, tonight was full of things she hadn’t planned.
Damien arrived twenty-five minutes later.
Zina opened the door and found him standing outside with a bottle of wine.
His eyes settled on her for a moment.
There was no calculation in his expression, no assessment, no polite glance before looking away.
He simply looked at her.
Bare-faced.
Barefoot.
Dressed down.
Nothing like the woman who had spent the morning commanding a company.
“You look tired,” he said.
“I am.”
“You should rest.”
“I will.”
He handed her the bottle.
“I brought this.”
She accepted it.
“Thank you.”
He stepped inside.
The house felt different with him in it.
Zina wasn’t sure whether that was because he brought a different energy with him or because she was becoming too aware of his presence.
She returned to the kitchen.
Damien followed.
“You cook.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She glanced at him.
There was something almost warm in his expression.
He took a seat at the kitchen island and watched her work.
“You don’t have to do everything yourself.”
“I know.”
“You don’t act like you do.”
“That’s because I don’t trust many people to do things properly.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“That’s a better answer.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“You disagree?”
“I think you’re accustomed to carrying responsibility before anyone offers to share it.”
The smile disappeared from her face.
That was too accurate.
She turned back to the stove.
“Maybe.”
He didn’t press.
That, too, was becoming something she noticed about him.
Damien didn’t force his way into spaces she hadn’t opened.
For someone with his presence, his restraint was almost more intimidating than aggression would have been.
They ate at the small dining table rather than the formal dining room.
The conversation remained easy at first, but eventually Zina found herself thinking about the one person who had been on her mind since the last meeting.
“Luca has been quiet.”
Damien looked at her.
“He has.”
“Since the meeting.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve known him for years.”
“I have.”
“What do you make of him?”
Damien leaned back slightly, considering the question.
“Luca has always been difficult to read.”
“Even for you?”
“Especially for people who assume familiarity means understanding.”
Zina waited.
“I know him,” Damien continued.
“I’ve dealt with him for years.
I know his temperament, his sense of humor, the way he disappears when he doesn’t want to be found and the way he becomes very visible when he wants people to notice him.
But there are parts of that man he has never offered anyone.”
“Secrets.”
“Everyone has those.”
“His seem deeper.”
“They are.”
She watched him carefully.
“Do you trust him?”
Damien’s answer came slowly.
“I trust that Luca rarely does anything without a reason.”
“That isn’t the same as trusting him.”
“No.”
He took a sip of his wine.
“But I don’t believe he intends to hurt you.”
Zina’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Then why does his sudden interest bother you?”
“Because it is sudden.”
“He appeared three times.”
Damien nodded.
“And that is what bothers me.”
“You’ve known him for years and you’ve never seen him involve himself like this?”
“Not without making his reason obvious.”
She frowned.
“What do you think he wants?”
“I don’t know.”
It was the first time she had heard Damien admit that so plainly.
“He has always been mysterious,” Damien said.
“But this is different. His attention has shifted toward you, and I haven’t yet worked out why.”
Zina looked down at her plate.
“Maybe I remind him of someone.”
“Perhaps.”
“Or perhaps my father asked him to watch over me.”
Damien considered that.
“Your father had a habit of leaving pieces of a puzzle in other people’s hands.”
She smiled faintly.
“That sounds like him.”
Their eyes met.
For a moment, something passed between them that had nothing to do with the company or her father’s secrets.
Zina looked away.
She wasn’t used to being looked at this way.
Not as an heiress.
Not as a businesswoman.
Not as somebody’s daughter.
Just as a woman.
And she wasn’t sure what frightened her more: the possibility that Damien felt something similar, or the realization that she wanted him to. This chapter was copied from novelping dot com without permission.
“I haven’t really had a normal relationship,” she admitted.
Damien didn’t react immediately.
“Why?”
“Because I never knew whether people wanted me or what came with me.”
His expression became quieter.
“So you stopped trying.”
“I stopped caring.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
She looked at him.
“No.”
He held her gaze.
“I don’t want anything from your father’s name.”
“I know.”
“I don’t need anything from your company.”
“I know that too.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
The question was gentle.
That made it harder.
Zina looked down at her hands.
“Choosing something because I’m expected to, and realizing later that I wanted something else.”
Damien was silent for a moment.
Then he said, “Then don’t marry me because you’re expected to.”
She looked up.
“What?”
“Your father may have written the condition. The court may have its expectations. Your brothers may have their plans. None of them gets to decide what you feel.”
His voice remained calm.
“But if you choose me, Zina, I want it to be because you chose me.”
Her throat tightened.
That was precisely the thing she had been trying not to think about.
Because somewhere between the arguments and the legal meetings, between the strange conversations and the quiet evenings, she had started looking forward to seeing him.
She liked the way he spoke to her.
She liked that he challenged her without diminishing her.
She liked that he didn’t try to possess the decisions she made.
And now she was beginning to wonder what it would feel like if there were no will, no deadline and no company involved.
Would she still choose him?
She didn’t have an answer.
Not yet.
And perhaps that uncertainty was what made the question dangerous.
Damien seemed to understand that he had taken them as far as he should.
He didn’t reach for her.
He didn’t ask her to answer.
He simply stood.
“I should leave.”
Zina looked at him.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I wanted to.”
Something warm moved through her chest.
He walked toward the door.
She followed.
At the entrance, he turned.
Their eyes met again.
There was a moment when neither of them moved.
Not long.
Just long enough for Zina to become aware of how close they were.
Damien’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes.
It was subtle.
Controlled.
But she saw it.
Her breath caught.
He stepped back first.
“Goodnight, Zina.”
“Goodnight.”
He left.
She closed the door and remained there for several seconds.
Her hand rested against the wood.
She hated the fact that she was smiling.
More than that, she hated the question forming quietly in her mind.
If this marriage had never been forced upon her…
would she still have chosen him?
Across the city, Lord Cassian Veyr sat in a private room beneath an old estate.
The man opposite him had served the royal court for generations and knew better than to mistake Cassian’s calm for patience.
“You’ve decided against an immediate challenge?”
Cassian poured himself a drink.
“For now.”
“The court is already divided.”
“Not enough.”
“You have influence.”
“Influence is useless when the king has not given his enemies a reason to stand together.”
The older vampire studied him.
“And the human?”
Cassian’s fingers rested against the rim of his glass.
“The human is not the problem.”
“Then why investigate her?”
“Because Damien has given me something I have never been able to reach.”
He lifted his eyes.
“His loyalty.”
The room remained still.
Cassian continued.
“Damien has spent centuries protecting the crown, protecting the court and protecting the order that keeps this kingdom intact.
Now he has chosen one human woman over the expectations of his own people.”
“And you intend to use her.”
“No.”
Cassian smiled.
“I intend to let Damien use himself.”
The older vampire frowned.
Cassian leaned forward.
“Let him defend her. Let him choose her publicly. Let him place her beside him and force every elder who despises the decision to watch him do it.”
He stood and walked toward the window.
“Then, when the court begins to question his judgment, when the old families begin withdrawing their support, when his enemies realize the king has finally given them something they can fight over…”
He turned.
“I will not need to take the crown from Damien.”
His expression hardened.
“I will simply make certain that when the crown begins to slip, there is nobody left willing to catch it.”
The older vampire said nothing.
Cassian looked back toward the city.
“Find me everything there is to know about Zina Eze.”
“And if you find something useful?”
Cassian’s smile returned.
“Don’t touch her.”
He paused.
“Not yet.”
Then his voice dropped into something colder.
“First, I want to know exactly how much the king is willing to lose for her.”