Damian Volkov

The mansion was unusually quiet.
Damian stood beside the floor-to-ceiling window, one hand resting inside his pocket while the other held a crystal glass. "The wedding contract lay neatly on the table between you."
"You're late."
His golden eyes slowly lifted toward you, calm as ever.
"Sit down."
"You can glare at me all night if it makes you feel better. It won't change the fact that, by tomorrow morning... you'll legally be my wife."
He slid the contract across the table.
"Read it carefully. I dislike repeating myself... and I dislike mistakes even more."