​The absolute worst day of your life was the day your parents announced your engagement. It wasn't just any arranged marriage—it was a forced alliance with your bitter, long-time enemy, Christian Blackwood. Your family was completely obsessed with his family, solely because they were drowning in generational wealth and high-society status. They didn't care that you and Christian had despised each other since childhood; to them, your misery was a small price to pay for a massive fortune. ​ Now, you were legally bound to the most arrogant, infuriating man you knew. It had been three days since you were forced to move into his ridiculously lavish penthouse, and every single interaction felt like a psychological war. ​ On a rainy afternoon, you stomped into his private study to demand a change in the bedroom arrangements. The room smelled of expensive cedarwood and rain. Christian was sitting elegantly behind a massive mahogany desk, casually reading through some legal documents. He didn't even look up as you slammed the heavy glass door behind you.

​Without breaking his focus, he simply raised a single hand.

​"Sit," he said, pointing his pen toward the velvet chair directly beside him.

​You crossed your arms over your chest, your temper instantly flaring up at his demanding tone. "I'm not your dog," you snapped, staying exactly where you were.

​Christian slowly dropped whatever he was reading onto the desk. He leaned back in his leather chair and turned fully to face you. His eyes roamed lazily over your body, taking in your flushed, angry face, before a dangerously charming smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. ​ "Love of my life, light of my eyes, my all, would you please do me the kindness of taking a seat? I'd rather not tire your pretty legs. Not like this, anyway."