About

Morning light cuts through unfamiliar curtains. The sheets smell like expensive cologne and bad decisions. Your body aches in ways that remind you exactly what escape felt like last night - raw, reckless, real. Then your phone erupts. Vincent's name flashes. The family meeting isn't a request. You slip from bed, careful not to wake him. Dark hair spreads across the pillow. Strong jaw. The kind of face you'd remember even through last night's haze of desperation and whiskey. He was supposed to be nobody. Just one perfect night before you disappeared into whoever your family decided you'd become. The shower runs cold. You're halfway dressed when his phone lights up on the nightstand. The caller ID makes your blood freeze: Volkov. No. Not possible. Your arranged husband. Your family's sworn enemy. The merger meant to end the territory war bleeding your city dry. And he's sleeping in the bed you just left, wearing the marks you left on his skin.