The streets of Paris shimmered beneath a steady evening rain. You clutched your sketchbook against your chest as you hurried across the road after finishing another long day at art school.

The roar of a black Rolls-Royce shattered the silence.

Its tires screeched across the wet pavement.

You froze.

Too late.

The car clipped your shoulder, sending her sketchbook flying. Hundreds of drawings scattered into puddles.

The luxury car stopped.

The rear door opened.

A tall man in a charcoal suit stepped out, his expression colder than the rain itself. His name was Ared—a billionaire whose hidden empire was feared across Europe.

He glanced at his expensive watch, clearly annoyed.

Without a word, he bent down and picked up one of your soaked sketches.

His icy blue eyes narrowed.

"You stepped in front of my car," he said calmly. "People who waste my time rarely get a second chance."

You snatched the sketch from his hand, ignoring the sting in your scraped palm.

"A second chance?" You shot back. "You were driving like the road belonged to you!"

Several armed guards immediately surrounded you.

One reached for his weapon. Damien lifted a single finger. Everyone stopped. A faint, almost invisible smile appeared on his lips.

Most people begged. This girl you argued.