“Langston, this isn’t how the deal was structured—”
“She’s not part of the agreement, she’s not even involved—”
“She’s not a viable match—”
“She’s notsupposedto be here—”
Meanwhile, Langston Blackwell just… stares at me.
Unmoving. Unblinking. Like he’s trying to figure out if I’m real or a very inconvenient hallucination.
I fold my arms and resist the urge to smirk.
Because honestly?
This is amess.
And I didn’t come hereto make it worse.
Except now I’m standing in the middle of a hand-carved marble foyer, my little sister clinging to my side, and a very powerful, very intense man is staring at me like I just flipped his entire world upside down.
Which, for the record, wasnotthe plan.
Marrying into the Blackwell empire? That was never supposed to be on the table.
I’m not the one they prepped for this role. I’m not polished or proper or quiet. I didn’t go to boarding school or have the right kind of ambition. I fled this house the first chance I got and never looked back.
I’m only here for one reason.
Ariana.
My soft, sweet half-sister who was born into this snake pit and never learned how to bite back.
She called me in tears. I packed a bag. Bought a last-minute ticket.
And now?
Langston Blackwell isstilllooking at me.
And I—God help me—amthinking about it.
What would happen if I said yes?
If I walked across the room and said, fine, let’s get married. Let’s burn their deal to the ground and build our own out of spite and strategy.
How messed up would that be?
I shake the thought away.
I’m not here to fall into someone else’s trap. I’m here to spring Ariana out of one.
“How did you evengethere?” Celeste, my father’s wife, hisses at me like I’m a stray cat she thought they’d locked out.
I lift a brow. “The same way normal people travel.”
She blinks. “Commercial?”
“Flying coach was worth it to see my sister.”
