Chapter 8: Chapter 8 A Contract Marriage with Alpha King
Aria’s POV
The car finally stopped in front of an elegant townhouse, all warm lighting and ivy-covered walls.
"We’re here," Damian said, his voice still rougher than usual.
I practically threw myself out of the car the moment the driver opened the door.
Damian followed more slowly, adjusting his jacket in a way that made it very obvious he was trying to hide his arousal.
"This is La Maison," Damian said as we approached. "I’ve reserved it for the evening."
The entire restaurant. Of course he had.
We were led through an intimate dining room to a private terrace overlooking a garden lit with string lights. Beautiful. Romantic, even — which made this feel less like a business negotiation and more like—
"You’re thinking too much," Damian said, pulling out my chair.
"How can you tell?"
"You get this little crease right here." He reached out and smoothed his thumb between my eyebrows.
The casual touch sent electricity down my spine. I jerked back.
He smiled, satisfied, and took his seat across from me. A server appeared with wine — something red and undoubtedly expensive.
Then the first course arrived — some delicate seafood thing that probably cost more than my old monthly grocery budget. I took a small bite, hyperaware of him watching me.
"You don’t have to be nervous," he said.
"I’m not nervous."
"Liar." His tone was gentle. "I’m not going to bite, Aria. Not unless you ask me to."
My fork clattered against the plate.
He laughed — genuine, warm, making him look years younger. "Sorry. Couldn’t resist."
"You’re enjoying this."
"Very much." He leaned back, studying me. "You’re different than I expected. I know about what happened with the pack.Most people would be broken by that kind of betrayal."
"Maybe I am broken," I said quietly. "Maybe that’s why I’m here, proposing contract marriages to strangers."
"You’re not broken." His voice turned serious. "You’re pissed off. There’s a difference."
He wasn’t wrong.
We ate in silence for a few minutes before I set down my fork. "What are your terms?"
Damian finished his wine, unhurried. "I need a Luna Queen who can stand beside me at Council meetings, host diplomatic functions, represent the Blackwood Pack with grace and intelligence." He paused. "Someone who will obey me when it matters."
My stomach dropped.
Obey.
Just like Ethan. He’d loved how agreeable I was — never caused problems, never demanded attention. The perfect accessory. Decorative, useful, silent when convenient.
"I see," I said flatly.
"Do you?" He tilted his head. "I don’t think you do."
"You want an obedient wife. Someone who won’t challenge you." I couldn’t keep the bitterness out. "Trust me, I understand perfectly."
"That’s not what I said."
"It’s what you meant."
"No, Aria. It isn’t." He leaned forward, eyes intent.
"In public, we present a united front. When I make a decision that affects the Pack, you support it — even if you disagree. But in private?"
His smile turned sharp. "In private, you can fight me all you want. In fact, I’m counting on it."
I blinked. "What?"
"I don’t want a doormat. I want a partner. Someone strong enough to call me on my bullshit, intelligent enough to see angles I might miss. But also someone who understands pack politics — who knows when to play the game and when to flip the board."
His gaze held mine. "I want you, Aria. The real you. Not some watered-down version you think I need. But I also need you to trust me enough to follow my lead when it matters. Can you do that?"
Trust. That was the problem.
I didn’t trust anyone anymore — especially not powerful men who made pretty promises. But I was running out of options.
The Smith family wasn’t backing down, and without protection, I’d lose everything my father had left me.
"I’m willing to try," I said. "But I have conditions too."
"I’d be disappointed if you didn’t."
"First — this arrangement has an expiration date. Two years. Then we reevaluate or walk away clean."
"Agreed."
Surprisingly easy.
"Second — I keep full control of my inheritance. No joint accounts, no shared assets."
"Of course."
"Third—" I hesitated. "No intimate obligations. This is a political arrangement, not a real marriage."
Something flickered in his eyes. Pain? Anger? When he spoke, his voice was steady.
"I won’t force you into anything, Aria. Ever. If something happens between us, it’ll be because you want it. Not because you think you owe it to me."
The knot in my chest loosened slightly. "Okay."
"My turn," he said. "First — you move into Blackwood territory within the week. We can’t sell this marriage if you’re still living in Holt’s house."
I’d already moved out, but I didn’t correct him. "Fine."
"Second — you attend all major Pack functions as my date. Council meetings, alliance dinners, everything. And you wear my mark in public."
"Your mark?"
"Not a real claiming mark," he clarified. "A ring, a necklace. Something visible that makes clear you’re under my protection."
Pack politics were all about displays of power. That made sense. "Alright."
"And third—" His smile turned wicked. "You stop lying to yourself about what you want."
My pulse kicked up. "I don’t—"
"You felt it, didn’t you? In the car." His voice dropped lower. "That wasn’t fear, Aria. That was desire."
Heat flooded my face. "That was an accident—"
"The fall was an accident. Your reaction wasn’t." He stood and moved around the table until he was right beside me — close enough that I could feel his body heat. "You want me. Your body knows it, even if your mind hasn’t caught up."
I couldn’t breathe.
"This doesn’t change anything," he continued softly. "I won’t touch you until you ask. But don’t pretend the chemistry isn’t there. It’s insulting to both of us."
He was right. God help me, he was right. But admitting it felt like surrendering — like handing him power over me I couldn’t afford to lose.
"I need time," I whispered.
"You can have all the time you need." He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture unbearably gentle. "I’m a patient man."
Then he stepped back, giving me space to breathe.
"One more thing," he said, returning to his seat. "Crescent Moon Pack is hosting a formal dinner next week. Victor’s officially introducing you as Vincent’s heir. I’ll be attending as your date."
He held my gaze. "Pack politics are brutal, and you’re walking into a den of wolves who see you as a threat. But they’ll have to go through me to get to you. And trust me — no one’s that stupid."
The fierce protectiveness in his voice made something warm unfold in my chest. Dangerous. So dangerous.
We finished dinner in comfortable silence. When the check came, Damian didn’t glance at it — just signed with a flourish and stood, offering his hand.
We’d barely stepped outside when a man in a dark suit approached and whispered something urgent in Damian’s ear. His expression tightened.
"I have to go. Something’s come up in the northern territories."
"Of course. I can call a car—"
"Don’t be ridiculous." He guided me to a waiting vehicle. "The driver knows where you live."
Of course he did.
He opened the door, but before I could get in, he caught my wrist.
"Aria."
I looked up at him, and for a moment I saw past the Alpha King facade — the man underneath. Intense. Hungry. Barely leashed.
"Think about what I said," he murmured. "About what you want."
He released me and stepped back, watching as I slid into the car.
I didn’t look back as we pulled away. Didn’t let myself wonder what might have happened if he’d kissed me just then.
This was a business arrangement. A strategic partnership.
Nothing more.
But as the car drove through the dark streets, I couldn’t stop thinking about the heat of him against my face. The way his hand had felt in my hair.
The way part of me had wanted to stay right there in his lap, consequences be damned.
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