A Deal Sealed in Chaos

CHAPTER 2

ROSE'S POV

When I woke up, my body jolted like I’d been struck by lightning. My head pounded, and I shot up, glancing around the unfamiliar room.

"Where am I?" I demanded, my voice hoarse.

Damien Sterling’s voice was infuriatingly calm. “You’re awake. Good. Now, calm down.”

"Don’t tell me to calm down!" I shot back, glaring at him.

He sat across from me, annoyingly composed, like he hadn’t just knocked me out minutes ago. “ Let’s start with this: who is the girl in the picture to you?”

I hesitated, weighing my options. But what was the point of lying? He’d already caught me red-handed. “She’s my sister,” I said through clenched teeth.

Damien’s brows lifted slightly, the first sign of genuine surprise I’d seen from him. “Your sister?”

“Yes. Now answer my question—where is she?” My hands balled into fists.

He leaned back, studying me like I was some sort of puzzle. “Interesting. I didn’t know she had a sister.”

“You’re dodging the question!” I snapped.

“And you’re too loud,” he countered smoothly. “Do you want everyone downstairs to hear?”

I stiffened but stayed silent, glaring at him as he continued.

“She left a long time ago, Miss…?”

“Rose,” I spat. “Rose Sinclair.”

“Well, Rose, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know where she is. But,” he added before I could explode, “I might be able to help you find her.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And why would you do that?”

“Because I need something from you in return,” Damien said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“What?” I asked warily.

“Be my fiancée,” he said simply.

I stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Damien replied, unfazed. “It’s simple. Be my fiancée for six months, and I’ll help you find your sister.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Your fiancée? You mean the fiancée you already have? She’s literally downstairs, in case you forgot.”

Damien’s lips curved into a smirk. “Seraphina? I don’t want her.”

I blinked. “You… don’t want her?”

“Correct.”

“She’s a literal heiress. Rich, beautiful, and clearly obsessed with you. Why the hell would you want me instead?”

He tilted his head slightly, like he was considering how much to say. “Let’s just say… I prefer someone who can stand their ground. Someone who isn’t after my money or my name.”

“And you think that’s me?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around his logic.

“Yes,” he said simply.

I stared at him for what felt like an eternity, my mind racing. Six months as his fake fiancée? Was I insane for even considering this?

“What happens if I say no?” I asked, testing him.

Damien leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Then I can’t help you. It’s as simple as that.”

I clenched my fists, my chest tightening. My sister was worth any deal with the devil. “Fine,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do it.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face. “Good choice.”

“What now?” I asked warily.

“Now, we prepare. The contract will be reviewed later. For now, you need to look the part.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Bring the maids up.”

I barely had time to process what was happening before a small army of women arrived, armed with gowns, makeup, and shoes.

“What’s going on?” I asked, alarmed.

“You’re making your debut as my fiancée,” Damien said casually, standing. “We don’t have much time. Thirty minutes should be enough.”

“Thirty minutes?” I sputtered.

“Don’t argue. Just cooperate.” He turned to the maids. “Make her stunning.”

The next half hour passed in a whirlwind of activity. They scrubbed, painted, and dressed me like I was some kind of doll. When they were finished, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me in the mirror.

The gown was breathtaking—deep emerald green with a plunging neckline and a slit that screamed elegance and danger. My hair was styled in loose waves, and my makeup was subtle but flawless.

“Miss, he’s waiting for you downstairs,” one of the maids said softly.

My heart pounded as I descended the grand staircase. At the bottom stood Damien, looking up at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

For a moment, I thought I saw something like awe in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“You clean up nicely,” he said, his smirk returning.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I shot back.

He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

I hesitated but finally looped my arm through his. The moment our skin touched, I felt a jolt—whether from nerves or something else, I wasn’t sure.

The room exploded into chaos the moment we stepped out. A throng of journalists swarmed toward us, microphones thrust forward, cameras flashing like strobes at a nightclub.

“Mr. Sterling, is it true you’ve called off your engagement with Seraphina Duval?”

“Who’s the woman with you?”

“Is this your new lover?”

I froze, my breath hitching as the questions came at us like a hailstorm. My grip on Damien’s arm tightened. I wasn’t ready for this—any of it.

But Damien? He was the picture of calm, his expression unreadable.

Before I could process anything, a sharp, furious voice cut through the cacophony.

“Damien!”

A woman stormed toward us, her crimson gown sweeping behind her like flames licking the floor. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, but the fury in her eyes turned her beautiful features into something venomous.

“Seraphina,” Damien murmured, his tone almost bored.

She ignored the journalists entirely, her gaze fixed on me like a predator stalking its prey. “Who the hell is she?” she spat, pointing a manicured finger at me.

Damien’s grip on my hand tightened, but I didn’t dare look at him. My throat was dry, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Answer me!” Seraphina demanded, her voice rising. She stepped closer, her hand lifting—

Before I could react, Damien moved. His hand shot out, catching her wrist mid-air. The force of it was startling, his fingers wrapped tightly around her slender wrist.

“That’s enough, Seraphina,” he said, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the noise like a blade. “You don’t get to touch her.”

“Touch her?” Seraphina hissed, wrenching her hand free. “You’re defending her? After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Everything you’ve done?” Damien raised an eyebrow, his expression cold. “What you’ve done is embarrass yourself. I suggest you leave before you make it worse.”

Her gaze flickered between us, her lips trembling with rage. “This isn’t over,” she seethed, her voice barely audible over the murmurs of the crowd.

Damien ignored her, turning to me instead. “Come with me,” he said, his voice softer now.

Before I could reply, he tugged me forward, weaving us through the sea of reporters. I had no choice but to follow, my hand still firmly in his.

We reached the podium, and the room seemed to hush in anticipation. Damien released my hand, stepping up to the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming,” he began, his voice steady and commanding. “I’m sure you all have questions, so I’ll make this brief.” He glanced down at me, his dark eyes locking onto mine before returning to the crowd. “Allow me to introduce Rose Sinclair,” he said, his voice carrying a weight that sent a shiver down my spine. “My fiancée.”

Gasps echoed through the room, followed by a flurry of questions. My head spun, my stomach twisting in knots.

I didn’t have time to process it. From the corner of my eye, I saw Seraphina standing near the bar. Her hand clenched around a champagne flute, her knuckles white.

She stared at us, her face a mask of fury. Then, with a sharp, guttural sound, she hurled the glass against the wall. It shattered, shards scattering across the floor.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out.

The room buzzed with whispers, but all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat.

Damien turned to me, his smirk returning as he leaned closer. “Congratulations, fiancée,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

I swallowed hard, my world tilting yet again. What had I just gotten myself into?