Lucian Blackwood's name followed me everywhere.
In the hush of the car as the driver pulled away from his tower.
In the weight on my chest that refused to lift.
In the way my fingers trembled long after his voice stopped echoing in my head.
Neither will I.
That was what he had said.
I stared out the window as Lagos blurred past, sunlight cutting through glass and steel, wondering why those three words felt like a challenge instead of relief.
I should have been grateful.
No expectations.
No lies.
No pretending.
Yet something about the way he had looked at me—like I was a variable he couldn't calculate—made my stomach knot.
Back home, the house was too quiet.
My parents had already left for a meeting—his meeting. Everything revolved around him now. I dropped my bag on the couch and sank beside it, pressing my palms to my face.
I wasn't weak. I had survived boarding school, survived loss, survived being the daughter who never quite fit her parents' ambitions.
So why did one man—cold-eyed and controlled—make me feel like I was standing on unfamiliar ground?
My phone buzzed.
Cassandra.
You alive? Because you disappeared like someone about to marry a billionaire against her will.
I exhaled a shaky laugh and typed back.
Barely. I just saw him.
Three dots appeared instantly.
AND???
I hesitated, then stood and walked toward my room, closing the door behind me like it could keep Lucian out of my thoughts.
He's not what I expected.
That bad?
That… complicated.
There was a pause.
That's worse.
I smiled despite myself.
I changed into something comfortable, then sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection. The engagement was in days. Designers were already calling. Lists were being finalized without my input.
I felt like a guest in my own future.
Another buzz.
This time, an unknown number.
Lucian Blackwood.
My heart skipped—traitorous, irrational.
I opened the message.
A card will be delivered to you this evening.
That was it.
No greeting.
No explanation.
I typed back before I could stop myself.
For what?
The reply came almost immediately.
Preparation.
I stared at the screen, anger rising fast and sharp.
I'm not something you purchase, Mr. Blackwood.
A longer pause this time.
Then:
I'm aware. Consider it armor, not ownership.
I didn't know why that unsettled me more.
I dropped the phone onto the bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling. I didn't trust him. I didn't trust this arrangement. And yet—
A small, dangerous part of me wondered what kind of man thought in terms of armor.
What kind of man looked at me and saw a battlefield instead of a bride.
By evening, the card arrived—black, sleek, heavy in my hand. No limit. No instructions.
Just his name engraved in silver.
Lucian Blackwood.
I swallowed.
This was real now. Not just signatures and whispered deals behind closed doors.
This was a life being reshaped.
And whether I liked it or not—
I was already standing inside his world.