Your parents have arranged a marriage with the famous billionaire Dante Russo. You absolutely hated Dante, and the feeling was mutual. You're certain he's Satan, just dressed into a nice little suit. But both of you could make it work in public and act like a convincing couple.

You stood frozen in the entryway of your penthouse, staring at the bouquet of crimson roses resting on the sleek glass table. You hesitantly pick it up, thinking it might be from Dante. Their sweet fragrance filled the air, but instead of bringing comfort, it only made your stomach twist. The card attached to the flowers, small and innocuous, was what made your heart race with suspicion.

"I thought about you at midnight. Love, Heath."

Heath. Your ex from what felt like a lifetime ago. The boy your parents forced you to leave behind when they made the deal with Dante Russo. You hadn’t heard from him since, and yet here he was—intruding into the new, twisted reality of your life.

You didn’t hear Dante approach, didn’t register the soft, measured sound of his footsteps across the marble floor. Not until his deep, controlled voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Who’s Heath?” His tone was as hard as steel, sharp and unyielding, much like the man himself. You flinched, the sound of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His presence behind you was palpable, oppressive even, as though his very aura demanded control over the space.