Chapter 1

• The grand ballroom sparkled under the glow of crystal chandeliers, their light dancing across the polished floors and gilded mirrors that lined the walls. The air was heavy with the mingling scents of expensive perfumes, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses. Tonight was the annual gala for the elite of New York, an event that drew billionaires, socialites, and those hoping to make connections that could change their lives.
• Elara Carter tugged at the hem of her borrowed dress, her fingers brushing against the silky fabric. She felt out of place among the crowd, like a bird trapped in a cage of glittering gold. Her best friend, Camille, had begged her to come, insisting it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
• "Just smile and look pretty," Camille had said, her perfectly lined lips curving in a mischievous grin. "You might even catch the eye of someone important."
• Elara had laughed it off, but now, standing amidst the sea of diamonds and tailored suits, she wished she had stayed home.
• Across the room, Damien Blackthorn leaned against the bar, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd. The infamous billionaire, known for his ruthless business acumen and magnetic presence, was an enigma to most. His tailored suit fit him like a second skin, exuding power and dominance. But tonight, his mind was elsewhere.
• His wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin, a constant reminder of the other world he inhabited—a world where strength and hierarchy ruled. Damien was not just any werewolf; he was an alpha, born to lead and command respect. Yet, his pack's council had recently presented him with an ultimatum: find his luna, or they would question his leadership.
• Damien's jaw tightened at the thought. He had no time for romance, much less the idea of a "fated love" that his kind revered.
• As the orchestra began to play a hauntingly beautiful waltz, his eyes landed on her—a rare beauty among the crowd. She stood near the edge of the ballroom, her soft, innocent features contrasting with the boldness of her surroundings. Her long auburn hair caught the light, cascading over her shoulders like a river of fire. Her simple dress, though modest, highlighted her natural grace.
• Something primal stirred within Damien, a pull he couldn’t ignore.
• Elara felt a shiver run down her spine, as if someone were watching her. She turned and met his gaze—piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through her. Her breath hitched. She had heard of Damien Blackthorn, the billionaire with a reputation as cold as the Arctic, but she never imagined he would be here, let alone staring at her.
• He started walking toward her, his movements deliberate and predatory. The crowd seemed to part for him, their whispers following in his wake.
• "You're far too innocent to be here," he said when he reached her, his voice low and smooth like velvet.
• Elara blinked, taken aback by his audacity. "Excuse me?"
• "An observation," he said, his lips curving into a smirk. "You stand out, and not in the way these vultures do."
• Her cheeks flushed. "I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."
• "Take it however you like," he replied, his eyes glinting with amusement.
• Before she could respond, Camille appeared, her expression a mix of awe and excitement. "Elara, you won’t believe who just arrived!" she exclaimed, grabbing her friend’s arm. Then her eyes widened as she realized who Elara was speaking to. "Oh my God. Mr. Blackthorn."
• Damien gave a polite nod but didn’t take his eyes off Elara. "A friend of yours?"
• "Y-Yes," Elara stammered.
• "Good," he said. "Then you’ll excuse us."
• Without waiting for a response, he offered his arm to Elara. She hesitated, her mind racing. What was he doing? Why was he interested in her?
• "Trust me," he murmured, his voice softer this time.
• Something in his tone made her take his arm. He led her to a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from prying eyes.
• "You shouldn’t trust strangers," he said once they were alone, his tone teasing yet serious.
• "Then why should I trust you?" she countered, finding her courage.
• "Because I’m not just anyone," he said, his smirk returning.
• Elara couldn’t help but roll her eyes. "Arrogant much?"
• His laughter surprised her—it was deep and genuine, a sound she hadn’t expected from someone like him.
• "I like you," he said, his gaze softening. "You’re...refreshing."
• Before she could respond, a sharp voice interrupted them.
• "Damien," a man in a suit approached, his expression tense. "We have a situation."
• Damien’s demeanor shifted instantly, his playful smirk replaced by a hardened expression.
• "Stay here," he instructed Elara, his tone leaving no room for argument.
• She watched as he disappeared into the crowd, a sense of unease settling over her. There was something about Damien Blackthorn—something dangerous yet irresistible.
• Little did she know, their paths were now intertwined, bound by forces neither of them fully understood.
• And in a world where fate and choice collided, the spark between them was only the beginning.
• The rest of the evening blurred into a haze for Elara. After Damien disappeared into the crowd, Camille eagerly dragged her into conversations she could hardly follow, each one more superficial than the last. Elara’s mind, however, kept returning to Damien Blackthorn—the man with piercing blue eyes and an air of power that seemed to command the entire room.
• Who was he, really? Why had he singled her out?
• The questions gnawed at her, but as the night wound down, exhaustion replaced curiosity. Camille finally agreed it was time to leave, her excitement over their night’s adventure still bubbling.
• “You were talking to Damien Blackthorn,” Camille gushed as their cab sped through the city streets. “Do you have any idea how huge that is? He’s, like, the most eligible bachelor in the world!”
• Elara sighed, resting her head against the window. “I don’t know why he spoke to me. Maybe he was just bored.”
• “Bored? Elara, he doesn’t even look at women unless they’re supermodels or heiresses. Trust me, this means something.”
• Elara dismissed her friend’s theories with a wave of her hand, but deep down, a small part of her wondered if Camille was right.
• By the time she reached her small apartment, she was ready to put the night behind her. The familiarity of her modest space was a welcome contrast to the glitz and glamour she had endured. Kicking off her heels, she collapsed onto the couch and closed her eyes, hoping for dreamless sleep.
• But sleep didn’t come.
• The next morning, the sound of her phone vibrating jolted her awake. Groggy, she reached for it, only to freeze when she saw the name on the screen: Unknown Number.
• Her heart skipped. Against her better judgment, she answered. “Hello?”
• “Elara Carter,” came the unmistakable voice of Damien Blackthorn, smooth and commanding.
• She sat up, wide awake now. “How did you get my number?”
• “I have my ways,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “We need to meet.”
• “Excuse me?”
• “Today. Noon. I’ll send a car.”
• Before she could protest, the line went dead.
• Elara stared at her phone, her heart pounding. Who did he think he was, summoning her like that? She had no intention of going—no matter how intriguing he was.
• But when a sleek black car pulled up in front of her building at precisely noon, curiosity got the better of her. Against her better judgment, she found herself sliding into the backseat, where a suited driver greeted her with a polite nod.
• The car whisked her through the city and out into the countryside, where the towering skyscrapers gave way to sprawling estates. Finally, they arrived at a gated mansion so grand it took her breath away.
• The driver opened her door, and Elara stepped out, feeling woefully out of place in her simple outfit. The mansion loomed before her, all glass and stone, its sharp lines a testament to wealth and power.
• A butler greeted her at the door and led her through a series of opulent halls until they reached a spacious study.
• Damien stood by the window, his back to her, but she felt his presence like a physical weight.
• “You came,” he said without turning around.
• “Against my better judgment,” she replied, crossing her arms.
• Finally, he turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “Good. We have business to discuss.”
• Elara frowned. “What kind of business?”
• “A proposition,” he said, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps.
• Her stomach tightened. “I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing, Mr. Blackthorn.”
• “It’s not a game,” he said, his tone softening. “It’s an arrangement. I need you to pretend to be my fiancée.”
• Elara blinked, sure she had misheard him. “What?”
• “My pack demands that I find a luna,” he explained, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. “But I have no interest in wasting my time with meaningless courtships. You’re perfect for the role—innocent, sweet, and unattached.”
• Her cheeks flushed. “I’m not some pawn for you to use.”
• “I’m offering you a deal,” he said, his voice dropping to a near growl. “In exchange for pretending to be my fiancée, I’ll provide for you financially. Whatever you need—school, rent, anything—it’s yours.”
• Elara’s mind raced. The offer was absurd, yet the temptation was undeniable. She had been struggling to make ends meet, barely scraping by with her part-time job. But to agree to this...
• “What’s the catch?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
• “There’s no catch,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You play the part, and after six months, we go our separate ways.”
• “And why me?”
• “Because you’re different,” he said simply. “You’re not like the others.”
• His words sent a shiver down her spine, but she forced herself to remain composed.
• “I need time to think,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
• “You have until tomorrow,” he replied, his expression unreadable. “After that, the offer expires.”
• Elara left the mansion feeling more confused than ever. Damien Blackthorn was a mystery she couldn’t unravel, and now he had pulled her into his world.
• As the car sped back to the city, one thought echoed in her mind: What had she just gotten herself into?
• The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the city. Elara sat in her tiny kitchen, her fingers clutching a cup of lukewarm tea she’d barely sipped. The day had passed in a haze, her mind consumed by Damien Blackthorn’s proposition.
• She replayed his words over and over, the confidence in his tone, the intensity in his eyes. He needed her to pretend to be his fiancée—a fake relationship with a man she barely knew, who had a reputation for being cold and dangerous.
• "You're not actually considering this, are you?" Camille’s voice jolted her back to reality. Her best friend sat across the table, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern.
• Elara hesitated. "It’s insane, I know, but..."
• “But what? Elara, this isn’t some rom-com. This is real life. He’s a billionaire! People like him don’t just ask random girls to pretend to be their fiancées."
• "I’m not random," Elara said, though she wasn’t sure why she was defending him. "He said I’m different."
• Camille rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. That’s what guys like him do—they make you feel special so you’ll fall for their games."
• "But he’s offering to help me," Elara admitted, her voice soft. "You know how hard things have been lately. What if this is my chance to finally get ahead?"
• Camille sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I get it, I do. But promise me you’ll be careful. Guys like Damien Blackthorn... they don’t play by the same rules as the rest of us."
• Elara nodded, though her heart still felt heavy. She hadn’t made her decision yet, but the weight of the offer loomed over her like a storm cloud.
• The next day, she found herself back in the sleek black car, being whisked away to Damien’s mansion once more. This time, she had chosen her outfit carefully—simple yet polished, hoping it would convey a sense of self-assurance she didn’t entirely feel.
• When the butler led her into Damien’s study, she found him seated behind an imposing desk, his gaze sharp and assessing.
• "You’ve made your decision," he said, more a statement than a question.
• Elara nodded, swallowing hard. "I’ll do it."
• For a brief moment, she thought she saw relief flicker across his face, but it was gone in an instant.
• "Good," he said, standing and rounding the desk to stand before her. "Then we’ll begin immediately."
• "Begin?"
• "Our engagement needs to be believable," he explained, his tone all business. "There will be public appearances, social events, and interactions with my pack. You’ll need to play the part perfectly."
• Her stomach twisted. "Your pack?"
• Damien’s expression darkened slightly. "Yes. You’ll be introduced as my luna—my intended mate."
• The word "luna" sent a strange thrill through her, though she couldn’t quite explain why.
• "I’ll provide everything you need," he continued. "Wardrobe, transportation, training in etiquette—whatever it takes to make this convincing."
• Elara bristled. "I don’t need training to act like a decent human being."
• His lips twitched in amusement. "Decent doesn’t cut it in my world, Elara. You’ll be walking among wolves."
• The weight of his words settled over her, but she straightened her spine. "Fine. I’ll do whatever it takes."
• "Good," he said, his voice softer now. "You’ll stay here during the engagement. It’s easier to control the narrative if we’re under the same roof."
• Her eyes widened. "You want me to live here?"
• "It’s non-negotiable," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
• Elara hesitated, but she knew this was part of the deal. "Okay."
• Damien nodded, satisfied. "You’ll move in tomorrow. My staff will handle the arrangements."
• As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her. "Elara."
• She looked back, her heart skipping at the way he said her name.
• "Thank you," he said, his expression unreadable.
• She nodded, unsure how to respond, and walked out of the room.
• The following day was a whirlwind of activity. Damien’s staff arrived early to pack her belongings and transport them to his mansion. Elara barely had time to process what was happening before she found herself standing in a lavish bedroom that looked like something out of a magazine.
• Her suitcase sat untouched in the corner as she wandered the space, marveling at the sheer opulence. The bed was enormous, the linens soft as clouds, and the walk-in closet was already stocked with designer clothing in her size.
• "This is insane," she muttered to herself, running her fingers over a silk dress hanging on a rack.
• A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Damien stood in the doorway, his presence filling the room.
• "Settling in?" he asked.
• "I guess," she said, feeling small in his shadow.
• "Good," he said. "We have our first appearance tonight—a charity gala. Be ready by seven."
• With that, he was gone, leaving her alone once more.
• As the evening approached, Elara’s nerves began to fray. The staff helped her get ready, dressing her in a sleek black gown that hugged her curves and styling her hair in soft waves. When she finally stepped into the grand foyer, Damien was waiting for her, his expression unreadable.
• "You clean up nicely," he said, his eyes lingering on her a moment too long.
• "So do you," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.
• He smirked, offering his arm. "Shall we?"
• As they walked toward the waiting car, Elara couldn’t shake the feeling that she was stepping into a world far more dangerous than she had anticipated.
• And Damien Blackthorn was at the center of it all.