Aria stared at the towering glass building in front of her.
Blackwood Capital.
Cold. Ruthless. Like the man who ran it.

She adjusted her blazer and stepped inside. The lobby was all stone and silence, polished to perfection, just like everything Dominic touched.

The receptionist didn’t ask her name. She was expected.

“Mr. Blackwood is ready for you,” the woman said. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

The elevator ride felt longer than their marriage.

When the doors opened, Dominic was already at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his corner office, back turned, staring out over the city like he owned every inch of it.

He probably did.

“You froze my company’s account,” Aria said, skipping hello.

Dominic didn’t turn around. “Technically, the trust did. I’m just here to offer you a solution.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Now he turned. Slowly. Calmly. Like a man who’d just cornered his prey and knew there was nowhere left to run.

“I’m protecting my assets,” he said.

“You mean my company. I built Vale Interiors without a cent from you.”

Dominic walked to his desk, opened a folder, and slid a sheet across the table toward her.

A contract.

Marriage. Again. Three months. Full public partnership. No divorce unless initiated by him.

She didn’t touch it.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” she asked.

“I have enemies, Aria.” He folded his hands. “They’re watching for weakness. Divorce gives them leverage. You were a shield. I need you to be that again. For a little while.”

“I was your wife, not a prop.”

“You were never just anything.”

Her heart thudded against her ribs. He said it too softly. Too dangerously.

“Why me?” she demanded. “You could fake it with someone else.”

“Because I trust you.” He paused. “And because I know you don’t need me. That makes you the safest person in the world to keep close.”

She stared at him, disgust and something more tangled in her chest.

“And if I say no?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Then your account stays frozen. And the investors tied to me? They pull out. You lose everything.”

Blackmail.

Classic Dominic.

“You want me to pretend we’re still in love?” she asked, voice bitter.

“No. I want you to pretend we never stopped.”

He slid a diamond ring across the table.

Bigger than the first one.

Louder. Colder.

More dangerous.