A Second Chance With Mr. Blackwood

The heat blistered her skin.

Giovanna felt the skin on her arms peeling back, the raw flesh exposed to the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse. Thick, black smoke coated her throat. She couldn't breathe. Her lungs screamed, burning from the inside out.

"He's dead, Gio." Elara's voice echoed through the crackling fire, dripping with pure malice. "Damien died because of you."

A massive explosion shattered the air. Giovanna's heart seized. A violent spasm ripped through her chest, tearing her consciousness to shreds.

Then, a rush of freezing air punched into her lungs.

Giovanna's eyes snapped open. She gasped, her chest heaving as she coughed violently. She thrashed her arms out, fighting off the invisible flames, but her hands didn't hit burning wood.

Her fingers tangled in cold, smooth silk.

The suffocating stench of smoke was gone. Instead, the crisp, clean scent of cedar and sharp mint filled her nose. It was a scent permanently etched into her brain. Damien's scent.

Her vision blurred, then slowly focused. Above her wasn't a collapsing, charred ceiling, but a massive, multi-million-dollar crystal chandelier.

A tall, broad shadow eclipsed the moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Damien Blackwood stood beside the bed. He looked down at her. His dark eyes were a storm of sick obsession and tightly leashed fury. His jaw was locked so tight the muscle ticked under his skin.

"How long are you going to fake passing out to avoid our wedding night?" His voice was a harsh, gravelly rasp. It held no warmth, only ice.

Giovanna's pupils dilated. The sound of his voice-alive, deep, vibrating in the quiet room-hit her like a physical blow. Tears instantly flooded her eyes, spilling hot and fast down her cheeks.

She ignored the venom in his words. Her eyes locked onto his face. It was flawless. Young. Handsome. There were no burn scars. No blood.

She whipped her head to the side. The vintage digital clock on the nightstand glowed with the date.

Seven years ago.

The night he had forced the consummation of their marriage. The night before everything went to hell.

Damien saw her tears. His chest stopped moving. A flash of raw, unfiltered pain cracked through his cold facade, quickly swallowed by a surge of dark violence. He thought she was crying out of pure disgust for him.

He let out a low, bitter laugh. He took a half-step back, his body turning toward the door. He was going to walk away. Just like he did in her past life.

Panic seized Giovanna's throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She threw the silk blanket off and swung her bare feet onto the cold floor.

She tried to stand, but the sheer, overwhelming shock of rebirth and seeing him alive finally crashed down upon her. A violent wave of dizziness washed over her brain, and her legs gave out. She pitched forward, falling straight toward the hardwood floor.

Damien's instincts overrode his anger. He moved faster than thought. His large hands