The Blackwood boardroom was colder than usual — not from the air conditioning, but from the tension thick enough to choke on.
Ava sat beside Damien at the long obsidian table, surrounded by men and women in thousand-dollar suits, all of whom were supposed to be loyal to him. But she could feel it in the room — they were circling, like vultures around a wounded predator.
At the head of the table, a tall man with graying temples and a smirk that reeked of old money rose to speak.
"Mr. Blackwood," he began smoothly, "in light of recent security breaches, market instability, and… personal distractions, several of us believe it's time for a change in leadership."
Ava's stomach dropped.
Damien didn't even flinch.
"This is a coup," he said calmly.
"We call it a restructuring," the man replied.
Lucien sat further down the table, jaw tight, gaze flicking to Damien and then to Ava.
A document was slid forward. Already printed. Already signed by half the board.
"We're invoking Clause 14," another woman said. "You can be removed with a two-thirds majority."
Ava's heart pounded. Clause 14. Damien had mentioned it once — a relic from his father's reign, a failsafe that could only be overturned by an emergency shareholder vote.
Damien leaned back, eyes like sharpened steel. "Who gave you the confidence to move this now?"
They didn't answer.
They didn't need to.
It was Helena. Ava knew it.
Ava's hands clenched in her lap.
She didn't understand every detail of the company's infrastructure, but she did know one thing — Damien still held the largest share. Just not enough to protect himself.
He needed one more major block of voting power.
He needed a partner.
---
Back at the estate, Damien paced the length of his office like a caged animal.
"They want me gone by next week," he said. "And once I'm out, Helena will gut the company from the inside. Strip it. Sell it."
Ava watched him. Her voice was quiet. "Then let me help."
"You already are," he muttered. "Just being here—"
"No," she cut in. "Legally."
He froze. "What?"
"Marry me. Officially. Publicly. With full shared ownership."
Damien stared at her, stunned.
"If we sign a legal marriage contract and file the right documents, I can inherit half of your shares as your spouse. That gives us control."
His brows furrowed. "You want to become part of this mess permanently?"
She stepped forward. "I already am."
He shook his head. "You'd be binding yourself to more than just me, Ava. You'd become part of Blackwood Global. You'd be a direct target."
She placed her hand on his chest, right over his heart. "I already am."
His hand covered hers. "You're serious."
"Dead serious," she whispered.
"God help me," he breathed, voice dark and reverent, "I've never wanted anything more."
---
Two days later, the media was flooded with headlines:
> Blackwood Heir Marries In Secret Ceremony – New Power Couple Stuns Corporate World
> Ava Sinclair to Assume Partial Ownership of Blackwood Global
> Helena Vale Silent Amidst Sudden Blackwood Alliance Shift
The courthouse wedding was brief, but the moment the papers were signed, Ava became more than just a threat to Helena — she became Damien's equal.
In name.
In power.
In war.
---
That night, Damien pulled her into his lap in the grand master bedroom, his hands sliding over her thighs beneath her silk robe.
"Do you know what you've done to me?" he murmured against her collarbone.
Ava gasped as his mouth found the sensitive spot behind her ear.
"I just saved your company."
He laughed, low and dark. "You gave me back my soul."
She kissed him then — slow and burning. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, until she was straddling him, grinding against the hard length already straining beneath his clothes.
Their tongues danced, wet and wild, their moans swallowed between desperate kisses.
He lifted her in one motion and laid her across the bed.
Her robe slipped open.
He stared at her — all of her.
"My wife," he whispered.
Then he kissed down her body, reverent, like worship. His mouth explored every inch — her breasts, her stomach, the insides of her thighs — until she was trembling, her fingers fisting the sheets, her name a mantra in the air.
He tasted her like a man dying of thirst, slow at first, then fast and merciless. She cried out, thighs closing around his head, but he didn't stop.
Not until she shattered around him.
Not until she begged.
And only then did he move over her, thrust into her, and made love to her like a man who had nothing left to lose except her.
It was heat and power, but it was also everything else — trust, danger, and something frighteningly close to devotion.
---
Afterward, wrapped in silk and sweat, Ava whispered in the dark:
"Now we fight them as one."
And Damien whispered back, "They don't stand a chance."
---