Damian Black

I’m at the head of the table, arms crossed, staring at the old man’s lawyer like he’s a piece of bad meat. Dorian sits to my left, his posture rigid, a mirror of my own. Damon is on my right, slouched back in his chair with a smirk on his face. Typical.

The room smells like old money—leather, polished wood, and a hint of cigar smoke that never really leaves. It’s the kind of room our father thrived in, a room built to impress and intimidate. But he’s not here anymore. Now it’s just us and his damned will.

The lawyer, an old man with a pinched face and a suit that looks too big for him, clears his throat. I swear, if he hesitates one more time, I’m going to pitch him out the window and get the d*mn thing over with myself.

“Mr. Black,” he finally says, looking right at me. “As the eldest, it’s only fitting that we begin with you.”

“No need for the pleasantries,” I snap. “Just get on with it.”

He flinches but nods, shuffling through a stack of papers until he finds the one he’s been looking for. “Your father, William Black, left very specific instructions regarding the division of his estate.”

“Of course he did,” Dorian mutters, his tone as dry as the martini he’s been nursing since we walked in.

Damon just smirks. “Bet the w*nk*r left us some hoops to jump through. The old man always loved his games.”

I don’t respond; I don’t have to. We all know what’s coming. William Black never did anything without an agenda. Even in death, he’s pulling the strings.

“Mr. Damian Black,” the lawyer begins, his voice quivering slightly as he reads. “As the eldest, you are to inherit the majority of the Black family’s assets, including the controlling shares in Black Industries, the family estate, and the entirety of your father’s personal wealth.”

There it is. The empire. The crown. Everything I’ve been groomed for since the day I was born. But I know better than to think it’s going to be handed over that easily.

The lawyer pauses, glancing up at me before continuing. “However, there is one condition.”

“As we all know,” I say, my voice cold. “What is it?”

The lawyer looks at me like he wishes he was anywhere but here. “Your father has stipulated that before you can inherit, you must marry.”

I stare at him, not quite believing what I’ve just heard. “Excuse me?”

He clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “As stipulated in the will, Mr. Damian Black, you are required to marry before the inheritance can be distributed to you and your brothers.”

My jaw tightens. Marry? What kind of sick bloody joke is this? “Please tell me you’re joking,” I mutter under my breath as the words sink in.

Dorian lets out a low whistle. “Blimey, Damian. He really did a number on you.”

“Shut up,” I snap, my temper flaring. “This is ridiculous. He can’t be serious.”

“Oh, he’s serious,” Damon says, grinning like this is the most entertaining thing he’s heard all day. “The tosser always said you needed to settle down. Guess this was his way of making sure you did.”

I glare at the lawyer, who looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. “How long do I have?”

He swallows deeply. “Mr. Black Senior was very clear. You must marry before the fortune is distributed. If this condition is not met within the year, all three of you lose your place at the Black table and the entire inheritance will be donated to charity.”

“Charity?” I bark out a humourless laugh. “He always had a flair for the dramatic.”

Damon chuckles, shaking his head. “Guess he knew how to get you to settle down, big brother. What’s the matter? Afraid of commitment?”

I shoot him a glare, and the smirk falls from his face. Damon’s used to poking the bear, but even he knows when to back off.

“What the hell was he thinking?” I grind out, my fists clenching at my sides. “I’m not getting married just to unlock a bloody bank account.”

The lawyer continues to flip through the papers in front of him. “Mr. Black was clear in his reasoning. He believed that a stable marriage would bring the necessary balance to your life, Damian.”

“Balance,” I echo, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “What do you think, Dorian?”

Dorian meets my gaze, his expression as cold and calculating as ever. “It’s bollocks. But if we don’t play along, we lose everything. And I’m not interested in walking away empty-handed after everything we’ve put into this company.”

“That makes two of us,” Damon adds, leaning forward. “But hey, it’s not like you have to actually fall in love or anything. Just pick someone who won’t drive you crazy, marry her, and we’re all set.”

I snort. “Right. Like it’s that simple. Women complicate things. I don’t need a wife. I need to run this company.”

The lawyer interrupts our back-and-forth. “There’s one more thing, gentlemen.”

A collective groan ripples from all three of us. Of course there is.

He clears his throat again, drawing out the moment as if savouring our discomfort. “Mr. Black also stipulated that once the marriage is confirmed, the three of you must work together to maintain the company’s operations for at least two years. If any of you leave the company during that time, the will is voided.”

I let out a slow breath, my mind racing. Marry a woman I don’t want, stay tied to this company, and play nice with my brothers. All for the sake of a fortune I shouldn’t have to fight for. It’s absurd.

But the alternative? Letting everything my father built slip away? Unthinkable.

Dorian taps his fingers on the table, breaking the silence. “So, we’re stuck with each other for the next two years. Could be worse.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mutter.

My mind is already running through the list of women I’ve known—none of them suitable for anything more than a one-night stand, let alone marriage. The idea of spending more than a few hours with any of them makes my skin crawl.

I take a breath; losing my temper won’t solve anything. This is exactly the kind of b*llsh*t my father would pull, always trying to control us even after he’s gone.

“So let me get this straight,” I say, my voice as cold as ice. “I have to marry someone —anyone— just to get what’s rightfully mine?”

“Yes,” the lawyer says, not meeting my eyes.

“Sounds like fun,” Damon says with a smirk. “Think of it as a challenge, Damian. Find the perfect bride and seal the deal. How hard can it be?”

I ignore him. “What else?”

“That’s all, Mr. Damian,” the lawyer says, clearly relieved to be done. “Once you are married, the estate will be yours in full.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter, pushing away from the table. I’ve had enough of this. “Come on. We’re done here.”

Dorian stands, following me out of the room. Damon lingers for a moment, looking like he wants to say something, but I don’t give him the chance. I’m out the door and down the hall before he can open his mouth.

The corridors of the Black family estate are as familiar to me as my own skin. Every painting, every piece of furniture, every d*mn inch of this place has been ingrained in my memory since I was a child. And now it’s all being held hostage until I play along with my father’s twisted game.

I stop in front of the grand staircase, gripping the bannister so hard my knuckles turn white. Marriage. It’s a joke. I’ve spent my entire life avoiding it, and now it’s the one thing standing between me and everything I’ve worked for.

“You okay, Damian?” Dorian asks, coming up beside me.

“I’m fine,” I say, though the words feel like a lie. “Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to pull this off.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Dorian says, though there’s a hint of doubt in his voice. “You always do.”

I nod, but my mind is racing. I need a plan, and I need it fast.

Damon finally catches up with us, that same bloody smirk still on his face. “So, what’s the plan, big brother? You gonna start auditioning brides?”

I shoot him a look that could kill. “I’m not in the mood for your jokes, Damon.”

“Who’s joking?” he says, leaning casually against the bannister. “You’ve got a deadline and time’s ticking. Better start lining up the candidates.”

“I don’t need your help,” I snap. “I can handle this.”

“Look,” Damon says, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “we all know you’re not the marrying type. But this doesn’t have to be some grand love story. Just find someone who can tolerate you, get her to say ‘I do,’ and we’ll all walk away richer.”

“Tolerate me?” I raise an eyebrow. “And where exactly do you suggest I find this saint of a woman?”

Damon grins, leaning back in his chair. “Well, there’s always Adalyn.”

I freeze, the name hanging in the air like a challenge. Adalyn. My personal assistant for the past seven years. Efficient, quiet, and annoyingly competent. She’s always been in the background, handling my life with precision and never crossing any lines.

Marrying her? The idea is so ridiculous, I almost laugh. Almost.

“You’re out of your mind,” I say flatly.

“Am I?” Damon says, crossing his arms. “Think about it. She’s already practically married to you. She handles your schedule, your business, your life. What’s a little wedding ring on top of that?”

“Damon, stop,” Dorian interjects, finally sensing my irritation. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” Damon says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying it makes sense. She’s already in your world. You trust her. And let’s be honest, you’re not going to find anyone better suited for the job. She’s quite fit, too.”

I open my mouth to tell him exactly where he can shove his idea, but the words don’t come out. Because deep down, a part of me knows he’s right.

Adalyn is the only woman who’s ever been able to stand me for more than a few days, and I can’t afford to waste time searching for someone else.

But marriage?

I glance at Dorian, who’s watching me with a thoughtful expression. “What do you think?”

He hesitates before answering. “It’s not the worst idea. Adalyn’s solid. She won’t let you down, and she’s not going to make this more complicated than it needs to be.”

I close my eyes, weighing the options. The thought of marrying Adalyn feels…strange. But if I’m being honest with myself, I know there’s no one else I’d trust to do this with.

“Fine,” I say finally, opening my eyes. “I’ll ask her.”

“Just like that?” Damon asks, clearly surprised. “No hesitation?”

“I said I’ll ask her,” I snap. “Doesn’t mean she’ll agree.”

“She will,” Damon says confidently. “Trust me. Addy’s the only one who can make this work.”

I nod, more to myself than to him. “We’ll see.”

Without another word, I turn and head down the hallway

By the time I reach her office, I’ve made up my mind. There’s only one way to see if this can work.

I push the door open, and there she is, sitting at her desk, focused on her computer screen. Her dark hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her brown eyes flick up to meet mine as I enter.

“Damian,” she says in that calm, even tone she always uses. “How did the reading go?”

I close the door behind me and lean against it, studying her. Adalyn. The woman who’s kept my life in order for years. The woman I’ve never once considered in any way other than professional. Until now.

“It was... enlightening,” I say, my voice colder than I intend. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

She nods, folding her hands in her lap, waiting for me to continue. No questions, no assumptions. Just quiet competence. It’s one of the reasons I’ve kept her around for so long.

“I need a wife,” I say bluntly.

Her eyebrows raise slightly, the only sign of su