CHAPTER 2: COLD DISMISSAL

Damien was not the kind of man who thought about marriage. Women, Yes. Commitment, no. Marriage was for people who believed in forever. Damien only believed in today and nothing more than that.

Still, his grandfather’s words stayed in his chest like a heavy weight. No wife, no company. No empire. For once, Damien couldn’t just laugh and move on. He needed a plan, and quickly.

He picked up his phone and scrolled to a name he knew well. Miranda Chase. Supermodel. Legs for days. She was the kind of woman who turned heads every time she walked into a room. Damien had taken her to more than a few events, and they had shared plenty of hot and steamy nights together. They weren’t in a real relationship but she was beautiful, fun, very used to his lifestyle and most of all, a fiercesome sexy demon in bed.

He hit call button.

“Damien,” Miranda said, her voice sexy and seductive when she picked up, He could already feel himself hardening just imagining her in bed but he had to remind himself to calm down because business came first this time. “It’s early. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”, she purred.

“I was,” he said with a half-smile she couldn’t see. “Alone. But I need to see you. Dinner tonight?”

She laughed softly. “You’re paying?”

“When have I not?

They met at a private restaurant where the wine list alone cost more than most people’s rent. Miranda arrived late like always and like the sexy goddess she was, the whole room seemed to turn when she walked in. She wore a short silver dress that glittered with each step she took, her long brown hair shining, lips painted a seductive red and a wicked grin on her face. She leaned down, kissed Damien on the mouth, and slid into her chair as if the world should cater to her every need.

“You look tired,” she said, lifting the glass of champagne he had already ordered for her. “Rough night?”

“Rough week,” Damien replied, watching her. “I need your help.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Help? You don’t usually ask for help. You usually just ask for sex.”

“This is different.” He leaned closer. “My grandfather had a heart attack. He’s recovering, but he gave me an ultimatum. He won’t hand over the company unless I get married.”

Miranda burst out laughing, so loudly that the occupants at the next table turned to look. “Married? You? That’s the funniest thing I've heard in a while.” She raised her glass to him. “The Damien Blackwood I know doesn’t even stay for breakfast.”

“I’m not talking about a real marriage.” Damien brushed off her laughter. “It would be kind of like a business deal. One year. You and me, pretending for my grandfather. When it’s done, we go our separate ways and you walk away with a whole lot of cash.”

Miranda tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “So you want me to be Mrs. Blackwood… for one year?”

“Yes,” Damien said simply. “Think of it like a role play. I’ll make it worth your time, You’ll have a black card in your name. Enough money to spend on whatever you like; Clothes, cars, travel, jewelry, just name it. You’d live in the penthouse. Come to events with me once in a while to keep appearances. Everything you already do, just with a ring on your finger and a marriage certificate to your name .”

Miranda leaned back, swirling her cup of champagne. “It’s a tempting offer. But Damien, darling, I’m too young and too gorgeous to tie myself down, even for pretend. Marriage, fake or not, would ruin my reputation. Do you know how many men would stop calling or how many brands would drop me if they thought I belonged solely to you?”

“You wouldn’t belong to me,” Damien said, his patience thinning. “It’s just a show. A contract. One year, Miranda. That’s it.”

She gave him a sharp look. “You don’t get it. My career is on the rise. I’m on magazine covers, runways, campaigns, brand endorsements. People like the idea that I could be theirs. If I get ‘married,’ even as a joke, that idea dies. And with it, half my value.”

Damien’s frown deepened. “So you’d turn down millions and a black card just to stay single for the tabloids?”

“Of course,” Miranda said with a laugh, tossing her hair. “Money isn’t the point. Attention is. I already have what I want; the gifts, the trips, the fun. But a fake marriage? That’s dull and doesn't benefit me at all. And worse, it sounds like work.”

Work. The word sat heavy between them.

Damien sat back, his jaw tight. Miranda gave him a sweet smile, but her eyes had already drifted toward her own reflection in the mirrored wall beside them. She was exactly who she had always been; stunning, spoiled, and shallow.

He had thought maybe she’d agree. Maybe she would be tempted to play along. But Miranda wasn’t interested in being tied down, not even for the money.

Damien drained his glass in one swallow. “Forget I asked.”

Miranda blew him a kiss. “Don’t sulk. You’ll find some poor girl desperate enough to say yes. You always do.”

Damien said nothing Because for once, he didn’t have a comeback.

The car ride home was quiet. Damien looked out the window at the city lights. His own reflection stared back at him. He had never wanted marriage, but now he needed it. For business and for survival. The Blackwood Empire belonged solely to his family and he would make sure of that.

Miranda was right about one thing: he’d have to look elsewhere. Someone who had less to lose. Someone desperate enough to say yes.