CHAPTER TWO

DAMIEN CROSS POV

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a long sigh, glaring at the documents scattered across my desk. Contracts, approvals, numbers all fighting for my attention. But as much as these papers annoyed me, it wasn’t them weighing heaviest on my mind.

It was Grandfather’s request.

Or should I say, his demand.

He told me he wanted me married before he died. Married. As in, a wife. A wedding. A bride walking down the aisle in white.

And like the obedient grandson I pretended to be, I agreed. Against my own will.

But here’s the problem 

I. AM. GAY.

Like, flaming gay. Rainbow flags, glitter, the whole parade. Just the thought of… tacos if you know what I mean already makes me gag. Don’t get me started on coconuts. You get the point.

So how exactly am I supposed to marry a girl?

A knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts, snapping me back to reality.

“Come in,” I called, already knowing who it was.

The door opened, and sure enough, Samuel or Sam, as I called him walked in. My bodyguard. My driver. My unasked-for advisor. Basically, my everything-but-boyfriend. Weird, I know. But when you hire a bodyguard and he somehow ends up being your life manager, you just roll with it.

“Mr. Damien,” Sam said, glancing at his watch, “it’s almost six o’clock. You wouldn’t want to miss dinner with your parents.”

I groaned inwardly. Family dinner. Wonderful. Another evening where the word “marriage” would be tossed around like a damn volleyball.

Still, I nodded. “Prepare the car.”

“Right away, sir.”

I grabbed my things and followed him out. Claire, my secretary, waved goodbye as I passed her desk. I forced a polite smile, stepped into the private elevator, and soon found myself sliding into the backseat of my car.

Sam closed the door for me, and I settled against the window, watching the city lights blur past.

Here we go again. Another evening of subtle hints, not-so-subtle questions, and long lectures about “family legacy.” As if being forced to marry a woman would magically make me happy.

Since the drive was long, let me introduce myself properly.

Name:  Hale Damien.

Age: 25.

Status: Single, obviously.

Position: Head of Damien Inc., a company that runs luxury hotels and other establishments.

Fun fact: I’m gay as hell, but apparently that doesn’t matter to anyone around me.

So here’s my genius plan: I’ll marry a woman, pretend to love her, put on a show for Grandfather, and once he passes away, divorce her and move on with my life. Harsh? Maybe. Necessary? Definitely.

No sex though. Not happening. My poor gay soul wouldn’t survive it.

The car slowed as we passed through the gates of my parents’ mansion. Sam opened the door for me again, and I stepped out.

The door swung open, and my mother’s familiar voice filled the air. “ Hale, you’re here!” She rushed forward and pulled me into a hug.

“Hi, Mom,” I chuckled, hugging her back.

“Look who it is!” My best friend Thomas appeared, grinning ear to ear. We exchanged a quick ‘bro hug,’ complete with back-slapping. Classic Thomas.

Dinner was served, and we all gathered around the long table. Surprisingly, nobody brought up marriage right away. Weird. But also… nice.

Halfway through, Dad leaned back in his chair and said, “So,  Richard  Hale recently died.”

I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth.

“I heard he owed a lot of money to Andrew,” Dad continued.

Andrew. As in Andrew Stone. My uncle. The man with zero heart and zero patience. If you owed him money, you were basically screwed.

“So, the  Hales owe Uncle Andrew?” I asked, trying and failing to hide my smirk.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?” Mom eyed me suspiciously.

“Just curious.”

But inside? Oh, I was buzzing.

Lightbulb moment.

What if… I strike a deal? I pay off  Hale Inns’ debt, take control of their company, and in exchange… their daughter marries me.

Perfect. Fake wife secured. Company secured. Grandfather off my back. And since there’s no sex clause in this plan, my dignity remains intact.

I tried to keep a straight face, but Thomas snapped me out of my thoughts. “Earth to  Hale!” He waved a hand in front of me.

“What?” I blinked.

“Dude, you were just staring at your food while the rest of us finished eating.”

Everyone laughed, but I didn’t care. I was too busy mentally patting myself on the back for being so damn smart.

Later that night, I returned to my empty mansion. Loneliness hit me for a second then I shook it off and dialed a number.

“Hello?”

“Jack, it’s Cross.”

Jack used to run the IT department at Damien Inc. Smart guy. Knows how to dig up anything on anyone.

“Hey! What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I need everything on  Hale Inns. The son. The daughter. All of it.”

“Anything specific?”

“The regular,” I said.

He chuckled. “Like the stuff I pulled up on your other boyfriends?”

“Jack.” My voice dropped dangerously.

“Relax, I’m kidding. I’ll send it soon.”

I hung up, changed into sweats, and buried myself in paperwork again. Hours passed until my phone rang around midnight.

“Sir,” Jack’s voice came through, “I sent everything to your email. Includes personal details.”

“Efficient as always. I’ll add extra to your pay,” I replied, already flipping open my laptop.

I opened the files. First up: Clara Hale.

Pretty. Young. Had a boyfriend. Didn’t care. She’d do fine as a fake wife. No big deal.

But then I clicked on the next file.

And froze.

Dark hair. Brown eyes. A sharp jawline that could cut glass. Broad shoulders, lean frame absolutely perfect.

Holy shit.

That was Richard Hale’s son.

And he was… gorgeous.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as I scrolled through more photos him walking out of cafés, laughing with friends, completely unaware that I was drooling over every single image.

Fuck.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, heat crawling through my body. My brilliant fake-marriage plan suddenly didn’t seem so perfect anymore. Not when the brother looked like that.

I whispered the words before I could stop myself.

“How I wish this face would be the one marrying me.”