I was New York’s golden girl, the perfect princess. But for three years, I loved a monster, Don Damien Costello.

I finally got the courage to propose.

And I found him kissing another woman, Sophia Marcelli, the princess of our rival family.

"I'm bored with you, my perfect little doll. I need a real queen. Sophia is the only one fit to be by my side."

All of New York was talking. Damien Costello had tossed me aside.

So I moved on, Found another man. Left my old self behind.

We kissed in a cramped elevator. I did something I'd never dared to do.

I just never expected the doors to open.

And there he was. My ex. Don Damien.

His face was pure murder.

For three years, I loved Don Damien Costello, the city's devil. Then he dumped me for being too perfect.

So I went on a date with someone else.

I just didn't expect to run into trouble before my date even arrived.

"Miss Rossi, I hear you've been lonely lately?"

Lorenzo Benedetti’s voice slithered into my ear. It reeked of cheap booze.

He was the heir to the Benedetti family. One of Damien’s biggest rivals.

I took a step back. My hand tightened around my champagne flute.

My date wasn't here yet. We were supposed to meet at this charity gala.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I kept a polite smile plastered on my face.

Lorenzo moved closer. Malice gleamed in his eyes. "Don't play dumb, sweetheart. All of New York knows Damien Costello kicked you to the curb."

He reached for my face. "Why not give me a try? I promise I'm a lot warmer than that cold-blooded bastard."

"Back off."

"Control myself?" Lorenzo sneered. "Why should I? You're just Costello's cast-off."

My face burned.

The guests around us started to notice. Their whispers grew louder.

"Mr. Benedetti."

A low voice cut through the air.

I turned. A tall man was walking toward us.

He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. Not a single thread on his bow tie was out of place.

His dark brown hair was slicked back. His gray-blue eyes were as cold as ice.

This was Julian Thorne.

Lorenzo’s face changed. "Thorne."

Julian stopped beside me. The air in the room shifted. His presence was a tangible thing.

"I think it’s time you rejoined your family." Julian’s voice was calm. But it held an authority you couldn't argue with. "Now."

Lorenzo gritted his teeth, but he backed down.

He knew the power of the Thorne family.

"This isn't over," he snarled at me, then turned and left.

I let out a long breath. But now I was facing another stranger.

"Thank you," I said.

Julian turned to me. The ice in his eyes was gone. Replaced by something I couldn't read.

"Isabella Rossi," he said. It wasn't a question.

"You know me?"

"All of New York high society knows you. I'm Julian." A slight smile touched his lips. "I'm more interested in why a smart woman like you ends up cornered by trash like him."

His bluntness shocked me.

Most men would hide behind polite chatter.

"Maybe I have a weak spot for trouble."

"No." He shook his head. "You just haven't learned how to use your power yet."

The whispers from the other guests continued.

Shame and anger mixed inside me. My cheeks were on fire.

"I need to get out of here," I whispered.

"Come with me."

Julian didn't ask for my permission. He just took my wrist.

His hand was warm. Steady.

He led me through the crowd to a private elevator in the corner.

The gold doors slid open without a sound.

"What is this...?"

"The express elevator to the penthouse suites," he answered, pulling me inside. "The Thorne Foundation booked them all for the night."

The doors closed.

Suddenly, we were alone in the tiny space.

My heart started to pound.

It wasn't fear. It was an excitement I didn't want to admit to.

Julian was a full head taller than I was. I had to look up to meet his eyes.

They were so deep.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "that idiot was right about one thing."

"What?"

"You are lonely."

My breath hitched. "How did you know?"

"Because I am too."

The elevator was rising slowly, but time stood still.

Julian's eyes were locked on mine. The intensity made me dizzy.

"Isabella," he whispered my name.

I should have pushed him away.

I should have kept my distance.

I should have told him this was wrong.

But I did nothing.

Julian's hand came up to my cheek. His thumb brushed my lips. "Do you know what you want?"

"I..."

"Not what he wants you to be. What you want to be."

His words hit a nerve deep inside me.

I stood on my toes.

Julian met me halfway. His lips crashed down on mine.

This kiss was nothing like I expected.

It wasn't hungry. It wasn't demanding.

It was a question. An invitation. A promise.

My hands tangled in his collar. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

The elevator stopped with a jolt.

Ding. The doors started to slide open.

"Well, well, well..."

A cold, familiar voice froze me solid.

I shoved Julian away and turned to the door.

Damien Costello stood there. His second-in-command, Marco, was behind him, along with some hot redhead.

His black eyes were burning holes into us.

My dress was a mess. My lipstick was smeared. My hair was a wreck.

Damien's gaze flicked between Julian and me. His face grew darker by the second.

Marco let out a low whistle, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Boss, looks like your little angel finally learned how to fall."

The memory of that night two months ago came flooding back.

I had waited for four hours in Damien's penthouse.

I wore the black silk dress he loved. I lit a hundred candles.

Cigars and whiskey were on the table.

It was my perfectly planned proposal.

I was going to be his wife. The one light in his dark world.

The sound of the lock turning made my heart leap.

I took a deep breath, ready for his surprise.

But Damien didn't walk in alone.

Sophia Marcelli was clinging to his arm. Her red lips were practically at his ear.

The Marcelli family was one of Damien’s biggest rivals.

I knew exactly what her being here meant.

He wanted an alliance.

"Damien?" I stood up. My voice shook.

He glanced at the candles, at the dinner I’d arranged. A flash of annoyance crossed his face.

"Isabella, what is all this?"

"I thought we should talk. About our future."

Sophia let out a little laugh. "Oh, how romantic." Her fingers traced circles on Damien's chest.

My face burned with shame. "Damien, can we talk in private?"

"Sophia can hear anything I can hear." He walked to the bar and poured himself a whiskey. "Go on."

I took a shaky breath.

Even with her here, I had to say it.

"Marry me, Damien."

The whiskey glass froze halfway to his lips.

Then he turned. The look in his eyes made my blood run cold.

"Marry you?" he repeated, like it was the stupidest joke he'd ever heard.

"Yes. We can build a family. A real one. I can be..."

"You can be what?" he cut me off, his voice turning to ice. "A fragile vase I have to protect? A distraction?"

Sophia leaned back on the sofa, watching the show with a smirk.

"Damien, I love you," I choked out.

"Love?" He laughed, a cold, empty sound. "Isabella, do you know what I need? I need a queen to help me run this city. Not a piece of art I have to handle with care."

He walked over to Sophia. His hand stroked her cheek.

"Your purity bores me. This fairytale is over."

My world started spinning.

Three years of love. Three years of waiting. Wiped away with one word: "bored."

"You're not serious," I shook my head. "Damien, you can't..."

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small box.

My heart stopped. For a second, I thought he'd changed his mind.

But he opened it. Inside was a massive emerald ring.

A ring that symbolized an alliance between two families.

He got down on one knee.

But not for me.

"Sophia Marcelli." His voice was low and steady. "Be my wife. Be the queen of the Costello family."

Sophia shrieked with joy. She held out her hand for him to put the ring on her finger.

"Yes! Of course, yes!"

I just stood there. I watched it all happen. It felt like a sick movie.

The candles were still burning. The smell of whiskey still hung in the air.

But it all felt fake.

Damien kissed her hand, then stood up. He finally looked at me.

"Isabella, you can go now."

My legs felt weak. "Damien..."

"Security will see you out," he said, his voice flat. "Get your things."

Sophia hung on his arm, her new ring sparkling in the light.

"Darling, when are we going to Italy for our honeymoon?"

"Next week," he answered, his eyes still locked on me. "Everything's already arranged."

I turned and ran for the door. Tears blurred everything.

"Isabella," he called out one last time.

I stopped, a final, stupid sliver of hope in my heart.

"Don't ever pull a childish stunt like this again."

I surfaced from the haze of the past.

Now, standing in this elevator, facing Damien’s cold stare, a rage I’d never felt before burned in my chest.

He walked toward us slowly. Each step was a claim of ownership.

"A perfect piece of porcelain," his voice was a low hiss. "Such a shame it breaks so easily."

He stopped in front of me. He reached out to touch my face.

"But it's still my porcelain to break."

Damien’s hand hung in the air, inches from my face.

My body trembled.

Not with fear. With rage.

"Don't touch her."

Julian’s voice was like steel.

He stepped forward, shielding me with his body.

I could feel his warmth. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne.

The feeling of being protected made my heart race again.

Damien slowly lowered his hand. His eyes shifted to Julian.

The two men sized each other up. The air crackled with danger.

"Julian Thorne." A cold smile played on Damien's lips. "I've heard of you. The lawyer who never loses in court."

"My reputation precedes me, it seems," Julian said calmly, but I felt the muscles in his back tense.

"This isn't a courtroom, counselor," Damien moved closer. "This is my world. And in my world, I make the rules."

Marco shifted on his feet, his hand inching toward his jacket.

The redhead, Sophia, pressed herself against the elevator wall, her eyes wide with excitement.

She loved watching men fight over a woman.

"Your world?" Julian chuckled softly. "Mr. Costello, I'm afraid you're mistaken."

His hand found my back, a simple touch that sent a shiver through me.

"The lady has already made her choice."

A flash of raw murder crossed Damien's eyes. "A choice? She has no idea what she's choosing."

"Maybe you should ask her," Julian said, not moving an inch. He was still a wall in front of me.

"Isabella," Damien’s voice became a low, seductive purr. "Tell this stranger who you belong to."

I stepped out from behind Julian. I looked Damien straight in the eye.

"I don't belong to anyone."

Damien's face darkened. "Watch your mouth, sweetheart."

"A threat?" Julian cut in. His voice was still calm, but it carried its own danger. "How predictable."

Damien turned on him, the fire in his eyes about to spill over. "You have no idea what you're playing with."

"On the contrary." Julian smiled, an elegant and deadly curve of his lips. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

The tension in the elevator was so thick I could barely breathe. A fight could break out any second.

Suddenly, Damien took a step back. He held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright," he said, the chilling smile returning. "I'm a gentleman. Everything for you two tonight is on the house."

He gave Marco a look. "Call the manager. Tell him Mr. Thorne and Miss Rossi get whatever they want tonight."

Marco pulled out his phone and started dialing.

"Of course," Damien continued, his eyes darting between Julian and me. "I'll have some special 'gifts' sent to your room. To make sure you have a good time."

His words were laced with poison. My face went hot.

"That won't be necessary," Julian replied smoothly. "We have our own plans."

"Oh?" Damien raised an eyebrow. "Quite the appetite. Just be careful not to play too rough, counselor. Some dolls break easier than they look."

Humiliation and anger choked me.

He was shaming me in the cruelest way possible.

Julian sensed it.

His hand found mine. He laced his fingers through mine.

"Mr. Costello." His voice was still calm, but it held absolute power. "Some games, I prefer to make the rules myself."

Damien's smile vanished.

"We'll have plenty of time for games," Julian continued, looking Damien dead in the eye. "And you... Mr. Costello. Your time is up."

The words hit Damien like a punch to the gut.

His face went from pale to red.

"You..."

Julian hit the 'door close' button.

"Goodnight, Mr. Costello."

The doors began to slide shut.

In the last second, I saw a primal rage explode in Damien’s eyes.

BANG!

A loud crash echoed from outside the elevator. He had punched the wall.

The elevator began to rise, sweeping us away from his raw, possessive rage.