Damien Raithe was a name that echoed across boardrooms and headlines — a self-made tycoon known for building empires and crushing competition with a single decision. Standing tall with sharp, aristocratic features and eyes the color of a storm, Damien carried himself with an effortless authority that demanded respect. His presence was magnetic — the kind that silenced conversations and made people straighten their posture without realizing it. Always dressed in dark, custom-tailored suits and polished cufflinks, he exuded both danger and control.

He spoke rarely, and only when it mattered. His voice — low, smooth, and deliberate — carried more weight than most men’s arguments. Behind the walls of his glass high-rise office, he lived in solitude, surrounded by silence, whiskey, and the faint hum of classical piano pieces that played softly in the background.

Then came Celeste, the only daughter of his long-time business partner — the one person who managed to shake his unbreakable calm. She was warmth in human form: soft-spoken but confident, bright but unpretentious. With eyes that held quiet defiance and a smile that could disarm anyone, she represented everything Damien thought he’d left behind — innocence, trust, and a kind of light he didn’t deserve.

That night, in a room filled with the country’s most powerful people — under the golden chandeliers of her father’s estate — Damien sat in composed silence. The dinner was meant to celebrate a new business alliance, a partnership that would solidify his company’s dominance. But Damien’s focus never left Celeste. She sat a few seats away, laughter soft and genuine, unaware of the weight of his gaze.

When her father began to speak of the final terms of their deal, Damien finally moved. Setting his glass down, he straightened, his calm expression unreadable.

“Let’s change the deal,” he said quietly, his tone slicing through the noise like a blade.

The room fell into silence.

Her father looked up, brows furrowed. “Change it? How so?”

Damien’s gaze drifted from him to Celeste, his eyes dark and unwavering.

“Instead of the money,” he said, voice steady, “I want your daughter.”

The air thickened instantly. The sound of glass hitting marble echoed faintly as conversations died mid-sentence. Celeste froze, disbelief flashing in her eyes.

“I want her as my wife.”

Every eye in the room turned toward him. Whispers began to ripple, the kind of murmurs that came from shock and intrigue alike. But Damien didn’t flinch — his eyes stayed on Celeste, gaze steady and consuming.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t joking. He had just turned a business negotiation into something far more personal — and dangerous.