Elle's Pov
His question hangs in there pressing. My grip tightens around Camila's notebook like it might shield me.
"Why was my uncle holding your arm?"
I swallow hard. "I—uh… I think you misread the situation."
His eyes narrow, steady and cold. I bite the inside of my cheek, searching for a joke, anything to deflect. Nothing sticks.
Before I can say anything more, the door swings open.
"Elle?"
Camila rushes inside, eyes wide, a mix of panic and something darker; fear for me. "What happened? What was that out there?"
I hold up her notebook like a shield. "Cam, breathe. I'm fine."
"Do you know who that is?!"
I step back "Cam," I whisper. "Before you explode…"
Camila groans, and pulls me to the far corner of the office needing to see my face. "Elle, you have no idea what you just walked into. That man..." she air-quotes him, "...is Damian Blackwell. You don't want to mess with him."
"Oh. That explains the jawline," I whisper back, smiling.
She nearly gasps. "Elle, please… you need to take this seriously."
Before I can respond, he steps closer, and Camila finally notices him. The change in the room is immediate, her eyes widen and a quiet tension settles. Even without a word, the room feels charged.
"Excuse us," he says.
Camila stiffens, eyes darting between us. "Yes sir."
"Please wait outside," he adds. With one helpless look at me, she slips out and closes the door.
Silence falls.
He walks across the room in measured steps. "I should introduce myself properly, but you already know. Damian Blackwell."
"Elle," I manage, my voice smaller than I intended. "Marielle Morgan."
He studies me for a long moment. "Do you have any idea what you just became part of?"
I give a nervous laugh. "Well, I wasn't expecting this… I guess your real fiancée was late, so somehow I ended up here.' I raise a hand. "Tomorrow, you fix it, say it was a misunderstanding, and everything should be okay."
He chuckles, but it doesn't sound comforting. "It's not that simple, Elle. You can't erase this with a statement. I'm a public figure, so every move is watched. This situation..." he gestures between us, "...is out in the open now. We handle it, together."
I stare at him, stunned. The audacity. Must be from Temu, they'd be proud.
"Well, respectfully," I force a smile but my eyes stay cold. "This is not something I can commit to. I need to leave."
His face hardens. "People panic when the reality of attention sets in. But if you're worried about reassurance or inconvenience," he dips his hand into his pocket, practiced and precise, "I can make sure you're supported. Generously."
"Supported?" I echo. "You think that's the issue?"
"You stepped onto a public stage," he says calmly. "You cannot simply disappear."
"I didn't choose the stage," I say through my teeth. "You pulled me onto it."
"And you agreed," he replies.
I step closer, trying so hard not to explode. "You're a jerk! You begged me to say yes and now you should be grateful I stopped this from turning into a disaster."
"You think you did me a favor? You only made things worse."
"Enlighten me." I snap, leaning back against the chair, trying to sound calm. "Because from where I'm standing, I just saved you from becoming tomorrow's headline joke."
He reaches for the notebook. Our hands brush and suddenly my vision shifts. The office melts away. I'm somewhere else, same room, different energy, the tension from hours ago pressing in.
Papers scattered across his desk. A speakerphone blares angry voices. Two men in suits stand in front of him. "Without an heir..." one says. "The board will push control to your uncle."
And then it fades.
I blink rapidly, trying to catch my thoughts. "You… you were under a lot of pressure," I murmur, before I can stop. "The board… they were threatening change." My hand flies to my mouth immediately. Did I just say that out loud?
He freezes, eyes locking on mine, sharp and furious. "How do you know that?"
I swallow hard, my mind racing. Great. Now how do I explain this? Do I say I touched your hand and accidentally saw everything like some movie?
The door opens quietly. Camila. I sigh with relief.
"Sir?" Camila says measured and cautious. "The investors are leaving early. They would like to see you before they go."
He does not look away from me. "Thank you. One moment."
I grab the distraction like a lifeline. "Here," I say quickly handing her the notebook. "Please take it. Apparently, my new side hustle is accidental fiancée."
Her fingers barely touch it before his hand closes over the cover instead. Our hands brush again. This time, he does not pull away.
"You know her well?" he asks Camila.
"Yes sir," she says softly. "She's… my best friend, and flatmate."
He nods slowly. "Your best friend," he repeats under his breath, like he's filing it away.
I pull my hand back and head for the door. "See you at home, Cam."
Then I give him a quick, weary smile. "Guess we already had our first disagreement."
He doesn't answer, and I don't wait. I step into the hallway, the air colder than before. My heart's still racing, but I can feel his eyes on me even after the door closes.
Damian's Pov
The meeting comes to an end, chairs scraping back as investors rise one by one. I have barely stood before their hands reach for me. The investors congratulate me with rehearsed smiles.
"Congratulations, Blackwell."
"Didn't think you had it in you, son."
"You bagged yourself a beautiful woman."
I give them the same practiced smile, rehearsed and polite.
Then comes the voice I hate most.
"Well, well," my uncle drawls, stepping out from the group. His grin shows all teeth, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Engaged finally. I never thought this day would come."
I keep my jaw tight. "Uncle."
He takes my hand, firm and unyielding, his touch heavy with expectation. "Bring your fiancée to dinner tomorrow night. The family should meet her."
"No need," I answer immediately. "Elle isn't comfortable with the spotlight, and we'll probably be busy."
His grin sharpens. "Ah. Trouble in paradise already?" He raises his voice just enough for a few nearby heads to turn.
My chest tightens. His smirk cuts deep, carrying more venom than words. He's mastered the art of saying little and wounding more. Enough poison to remind me he still sees me as that boy who lost everything. This isn't a conversation. It's a test.
I force a nod. "Of course not. We'll be there."
His satisfaction is instant. He pats my shoulder like he's won something, then walks away. I let him go.
Once I'm away from the crowd, I pull out my phone.
"Mr. Alfred," I say as soon as he picks up. "Be honest… does this engagement buy me any time?"
His voice is calm, steady, exactly like it was twelve years ago, when everything else in my life fell apart. "It gives you some space, Damian. The board and your uncle will slow down… but only for a little while."
I tighten my grip on the phone. "How much?"
"Not long," he says quietly. "An engagement doesn't protect you. Only marriage does."
When the line goes dead, I stand in the hall, staring at nothing. Marriage has never been in my plans, but now it's being forced onto the table.
And Elle. How did she know?