MELTING ICE

The days that followed the dinner felt like a slow-motion train wreck. I could feel the weight of the marriage looming over me like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over everything I did. My mornings were spent in the studio, designing, but my mind was never fully present. It was always on Damon, on the DeMarcos, on the future my parents had planned for me without my consent.

I had spent my life building Moretti Couture into a global powerhouse, and now it felt like everything I had worked for was about to be handed over to someone else. Someone I didn't even know. Someone who had no place in my world.

I tried to push the thoughts away, to bury myself in my work, but the truth was inescapable. The marriage was happening. My parents had made sure of that. And Damon, with his confident smile and cold eyes, was the one who was going to be at my side.

I couldn't escape the feeling that something was off. Damon's presence in my life was unsettling. He wasn't like anyone I had ever met—his power, his control, the way he seemed to always be one step ahead. It was both intoxicating and terrifying. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I didn't know the first thing about him. I didn't know his past, his family, or even what he truly wanted from me.

The more I thought about it, the more questions began to surface. And I knew that if I didn't get answers, I would never be able to move forward. I couldn't marry a man I didn't understand. I couldn't give up my life to someone I didn't trust.

---

It was late one evening when I decided to take matters into my own hands. I couldn't wait for the answers to come to me. I had to go to him. I had to confront Damon and figure out what was really going on.

I had no idea where to find him, but I knew one place where he was always likely to be: DeMarco Designs. It was his empire, after all. His name was on every skyscraper that rose above the city, a testament to his power and influence. It was a sleek, modern building, all glass and steel, towering over the city like a monument to ambition.

I wasn't sure what I expected when I arrived, but I wasn't prepared for the chill that settled over me as I stepped into the lobby. The building was impressive, but there was something about it that felt cold, unwelcoming. The receptionist gave me a polite smile but didn't ask what I was doing there. I supposed it was clear enough—everyone in the city knew who I was.

"I need to speak with Damon DeMarco," I said, my voice steady, though my heart was racing.

The receptionist didn't hesitate. "Mr. DeMarco is in his office. I'll let him know you're here."

I followed the receptionist through the sleek corridors, the sound of my heels clicking against the marble floors echoing in the quiet. The building was immaculate, everything in its place, everything precise. It was a reflection of Damon himself—ordered, controlled, and unyielding.

When we reached his office, the receptionist knocked once before opening the door.

"Mr. DeMarco, Miss Moretti is here to see you."

Damon looked up from behind his desk, his sharp blue eyes meeting mine. There was no surprise in his expression, just a quiet acknowledgment that I had arrived. He was dressed in a dark suit, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his tie loose around his neck. His posture was casual, but there was an undeniable air of power in the way he carried himself.

"Vivienne," he said, his voice smooth, as though he had been expecting me all along. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I stepped into the room, my gaze never leaving his. "We need to talk."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "About what?"

"About everything," I said, my voice firm. "About this marriage, about what you want from me, and about why you're doing this."

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never wavering. "You're not happy about this, are you?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm not. And I need to understand why this is happening. Why my parents are pushing me into this marriage. What's in it for you?"

Damon studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You don't trust me," he said, his voice low.

"No," I said, the word coming out sharper than I intended. "I don't. And I don't trust my parents either. This isn't just about business, is it? There's something else going on here. Something you're not telling me."

He stood up slowly, walking around the desk to stand in front of me. His presence was imposing, and I could feel the heat of his body so close to mine. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. But I forced myself to stay composed.

"I don't owe you an explanation, Vivienne," he said, his voice calm but firm. "But I'll give you one anyway. This marriage isn't just about business. It's about power. It's about securing the future of both of our families. And yes, it's about us, too. About what we can build together."

I felt my heart race at his words. "And what exactly do you think we can build together, Damon?"

He looked at me, his eyes darkening with something I couldn't quite place. "You'll see soon enough. We both will."

I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a hand, silencing me. "I know you don't want this. I know you think you're in control. But the truth is, Vivienne, you've been a pawn in this game for a long time. Your parents, my family—they've been planning this for years. You think you can walk away from it, but you can't. Not now."

I felt the weight of his words settle over me like a heavy cloak. He was right, in a way. My parents had been making decisions for me my entire life, and now I was being forced into a marriage I didn't want. But Damon was wrong about one thing. I wasn't just going to accept my fate.

"I'm not a pawn," I said, my voice shaking with anger. "I'm not anyone's property. And I won't let you or anyone else decide my future for me."

Damon's lips curled into a small smile, almost like he was amused by my defiance. "We'll see about that."

He turned away from me, walking back to his desk and sitting down, as though our conversation was over. I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing with the implications of what he had just said. He had made it clear that I was part of a larger game, a game I didn't fully understand. But I wasn't going to play by his rules.

I turned on my heel and walked out of the office, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. I couldn't let Damon and my parents control me. I had to find a way out. But as I left the building, I couldn't shake the feeling that the storm was just beginning.

---

The next few days were filled with tension. Damon's words kept echoing in my mind, and I couldn't escape the feeling that I was trapped in a game I had no control over. But I wasn't ready to give up yet. I couldn't just accept my fate.

I had to find a way to break free.