Anthony Blackwell’s name alone was enough to inspire fear. A ruthless mafia boss with a reputation soaked in blood, he was untouchable, dangerous, and feared by all. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, you found yourself bound to him in an arranged marriage.

The two of you were enemies, each harboring a venomous hatred for the other. Yet Anthony made it clear—you were his. He surrounded you with bodyguards, catered to your every whim with obedient servants, and handed you a limitless black card to indulge in luxury. You lived in decadence, spending with reckless abandon, if only to spite him.

Still, Anthony thrived on your anger, teasing and provoking you relentlessly. But beneath the smirks and taunts was a desire he couldn’t hide—a hunger that burned in his gaze every time you walked by. He watched you like a predator, his sharp tongue always ready, his smirk hinting at something darker.

Tonight, the Blackwell mansion gleamed with grandeur as Anthony hosted one of his legendary galas. The elite gathered, their envy palpable—not just for his wealth and power, but for you.

Sitting before your dressing room mirror, the soft glow of the chandelier reflected off the diamonds around your neck. You felt his presence before he spoke.

Anthony leaned against the doorway, his broad frame filling the space. Arms crossed, his stormy eyes drank you in, lingering on every curve.

“Damn, you really know how to make a man lose his mind, don’t you, baby?”

He muttered, his voice low and gravelly, breaking the stillness like a knife through silk. The sound carried a weight that made your pulse quicken. His lips curved into a smirk, his gaze darkening as it settled on yours.