Damian Russo didn’t believe in love.

Not anymore. Not since his brother was murdered in cold blood. Love couldn't exist in this kind of world.

He stood in front of the church altar, dressed in a tailored black suit, surrounded by armed guards and silence thick with tension. The place reeked of power and death—the kind of atmosphere he thrived in.There was no guests, just his own men. There didn't need to. This wasn't a wedding. It was a claim. Revenge in his own subtle way . Killing Stephanie would only be too easy. He would make her father feel ten times what he felt when his brother died. He wouldn't spare any of them.

Across from him, Stephanie Moretti stood her face expressionless. But still with fire in her eyes.

That fire both irritated and intrigued him. She wasn't showing any emotion. It made him want to hurt her, until she broke. This revenge wouldn't be worth it, if she kept up that stoic attitude. She had to break for him to be fulfilled, for the revenge to be complete.

She hadn’t shed a single tear, but he could see the storm brewing inside her. Good. He wanted her angry. He wanted her to feel what he had felt the day they zipped his brother’s corpse into a bag.When they had put him six feet into the ground. Dead.

The priest spoke in Latin, a ceremonial relic for a marriage that meant nothing sacred.

“I, Damian Russo, take you, Stephanie Moretti…” He recited the vows. None of it meant anything to him.it was routine. His voice was cold. Robotic. This wasn’t love. This was war strategy.Revenge.

When it was her turn to speak, she hesitated.

“Say it,” he ordered, his voice a low growl that caused both her and the priest to flinch.

Stephanie’s jaw clenched. “I… take you… Damian Russo…”

Her voice cracked. It thrilled him.

After the vows were sealed with Legal papers and armed witnesses, they returned to the Russo estate outside Milan. A fortress carved into the hills, draped in shadows and barbed steel.It was the home of his childhood and now it would be THEIR Home.

He stood on the balcony overlooking the estate while his second-in-command approached, grim-faced.

“Arturo Moretti just mobilized thirty men. He’s coming after you".Damian didn’t flinch. “Then he wants a war. Give him one.”

"Yes sir"

That night, as the Moretti mercenaries stormed one of their weapon caches near Lake Como, Damian watched the firefight unfold via live surveillance. His men fought with brutal precision.

By dawn, fourteen of Arturo’s men were dead. Two of his trusted lieutenants captured. One, executed on camera. He should no mercy, blinded by rage and revenge.

Stephanie’s father would get the message. He wasn't out to joke.

He entered the west wing and stopped at her door—their marital suite. She was standing by the window, still in her wedding dress, hands clenched. She didn't notice him come in immediately. He watched her silently. She was painfully beautiful, poised and proud, like a queen. It made it hard for him to focus. Probably if she didn't have eyes that carried fire and something else within, Revenge would have been easier.

Her calmness tugged at his defences, much to his annoyance. It would have been easier to focus if she was less elegant. If his heart didn't do a flip everytime their eyes met.

His leg brushed against a table alerting her to his presence. He stood ready for the backlash that was to come. It didn't.

“You sent them to die,” she said without turning.He wasn't expecting that. She was calm. Too calm. Almost like she was plotting something.

“I gave them a choice,” Damian replied. “They chose wrong.”

She turned, face tight with rage. “There were other ways you could have taken revenge, you don't seem dumb, you know where to hit. Why this? What is your real aim? What did you want to achieve?"

"A life for a life" he said deliberately aiming to be mysterious. Her eyes narrowed.

She searched his face.

"it's more than that. It's something deeper, something that killing me wouldn't achieve. You needed me alive. Or I would have been dead since"

He smiled. "you aren't morretti's daughter for nothing" He walked closer. “Your father can end this. All he has to do is confess."

"what if he's innocent?" she asked fiercely.

"Can you prove it?" He asked.

"I can try. If you'll let me go".

A low chuckle.

"not a chance, he has to prove it himself"

“And if he can’t?”

“Then —You'll carry my legacy. mine forever".

He turned to leave but stopped at the doorway.

“From now on, you don’t leave this room without my permission. Lock her in,” he ordered the guards.

Night fell.

Damian returned to the room, but this time not alone.

He brought another woman with him—tall, blonde, barely clothed. One of the models he’d once entertained when his world was made of smoke and lust, before Antonio's blood had painted it red.

Stephanie sat on the edge of the bed, tense, expectant.

"what's going on?"

"it's our marriage night, I expect us to do the needful." his smile was anything but warm.

" You're joking right? You kidnapped me remember? Forced me to marry you! I am not your wife! "

"Agreed. But we are married now! All past grievances should be moved aside"

He made to move towards her. She flinched and stepped back.

He stared at her.

“If you’re going to be my wife in name only, then understand—that’s all you’ll be.It'll be harder for you to leave this place".

She stood. “You’re disgusting.”

He stepped closer. “No , I doubt I am. I'm every woman's dream"

When she didn’t answer, Damian turned to the guards. “Tie her up and leave us. This is going to be a long night"

Stephanie was shocked. The guard did as ordered ,then left.

“Damian—” she choked, struggling against the ropes.

“You want to hate me?” he said, voice low, cruel. “Good. Hate is honest.”

And then, without shame, without remorse, he made her watch as he lay with the other woman in front of her—his eyes fixed on Stephanie the entire time.

Not for pleasure. Not for lust.

For punishment. Her body tingled with every stroke, every move. She squirmed getting wet. It was like watching a live porn show. She hated him for it. Hated her body for feeling the way she felt. For responding to his antics. Hated she could even be aroused in this situation . Hated he could make her feel like That! Her blood boiled.

Later, after the other woman was dismissed and the room reeked of humiliation and Sex, Stephanie sat in silence—eyes hollow, hands untied.

He came towards her and lifted her chin up to face him. "this is only the beginning, seńorita , there's more coming. I hope you'll be prepared. I want to see how long you can keep up your defences, before you break" he whispered huskily against her ear. Heat pooled low in her belly despite herself.

She flinched and swatted his hands away.

"You'll wait a very long time before that'll happen" She said fiercely.

He smiled and stood.

"oh, I'm a very patient man. I can wait"

He walked towards the door, then paused and turned back.

“There’s no contact with your father anymore. From now on, you’re mine. And the world will believe this marriage is real.”

She didn’t respond. Didn’t look at him. He said nothing more and walked away, leaving her in the room. With her thoughts. The door closed behind him and the guards took their place.

Stephanie watched him leave, then curled up in a ball, humiliation stinging her cheeks and something more.

Desire.

She shouldn't be feeling this. She tried to divert her thoughts to other things and fell asleep thinking of how to escape.

She had a dream that night and it involved one certain sexy demigod with eyes of fire and sensuous body. He was kissing her and doing all certain things to her body.

Just as the dream was coming to a climax, her body already fully aroused, her eyes flew open and she found herself staring into a pair of Golden brown eyes.

Damian. It came out as a whisper.

He smiled at her.

"Good morning seńorita, did you dream about me? "