Chapter 3

Selene’s Pov

I barely slept.

Damien’s proposal played on repeat in my head while I paced my tiny apartment. Fake marriage. The perfect weapon. I could live in his world, learn every weakness, and destroy him slowly. Make him feel the same helplessness my father felt before he died.

But those eyes… the way he looked at me like he was seeing straight through the fake name. And that brief touch yesterday. I hated how it affected me.

The next day I went back to his office.

He was waiting, standing by the window again like some dark king surveying his kingdom.

“I accept,” I said.

No smile. Just a nod, like he’d expected nothing less. “We’ll announce it quietly. A whirlwind romance. The board will love the stability it signals.”

I crossed my arms. “And what’s my story? Poor girl swept off her feet by the big bad billionaire?”

“Something like that.” He stepped closer. “We’ll need to sell it. Dinners, events, shared living. Starting tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“My place. The guest wing is yours. Bring whatever you need.”

I swallowed. This was moving faster than I planned, but I couldn’t back out now. “Fine. But I’m not sleeping with you, Damien.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall asking. This is business, Elena. Nothing more.”

The way he said my fake name felt like a challenge.

That evening a driver took me to his penthouse. It was everything I expected, cold marble, floor-to-ceiling windows, art worth more than most people’s lives. Damien met me at the door in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said. “We should talk about the past.”

My stomach dropped. “What past?”

He poured wine and handed me a glass. “Three years ago I fell in love with a woman online. She called herself S. We talked every night for months. Then she vanished the same night the Hart scandal broke. I’ve never found her.”

I took the glass with steady hands even though my heart was screaming. “Tragic story. What does that have to do with me?”

He studied me over the rim of his glass. “You feel like her. Same fire. Same way of cutting through bullshit.”

I forced a laugh. “Lots of women have fire, Damien.”

He set his glass down and moved closer. “Maybe. But only one made me want to be better. If you’re her, Elena… I need to know.”

My throat tightened. I remembered those nights too clearly, how safe he made me feel when my father’s world was already cracking. How I’d started falling for the man behind the ruthless reputation. Then the scandal hit, my father’s death, and I ran.

I wasn’t ready to admit any of that.

I stepped back. “I’m not her. I’m Elena Hale. Take it or leave it.”

Damien’s jaw clenched. “You say that, but your reaction when I mentioned the scandal tells me otherwise. Why did your hands shake when I said the name Hart?”

“They didn’t shake,” I lied quickly. “You’re imagining things. Plenty of families were ruined back then. Mine included. It’s not some big mystery.”

“Ruined by who?” he pressed, eyes narrowing. “You’ve never mentioned that before. Tell me the full story, Elena. If we’re doing this marriage, even a fake one, I need to know what I’m stepping into.”

I took a sip of wine to buy time. “My father lost his business in a bad deal. He trusted the wrong people. The stress killed him. End of story. Happy now?”

“Not even close,” Damien replied, voice low. “Because I was blamed for a lot of those collapses. Including the Hart family’s. Does that name mean anything more to you than just headlines?”

I met his gaze, heart pounding. “Why? Do you feel guilty about it? The great Damien Cross actually has a conscience?”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Guilty? I spent years trying to uncover what really happened that night. Someone set me up too. But you already know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t know anything about your problems,” I shot back. “I came here for a job, not a therapy session. If this fake marriage means you’re going to interrogate me every night, maybe I should walk out right now.”

Damien stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You won’t walk out. You accepted too quickly. I saw the look in your eyes, almost like you were pleased. Why?”

“Because it’s a good opportunity,” I said firmly. “Money, connections, power. Things I lost once and I won’t lose again. Don’t overthink it.”

“Opportunity,” he repeated, tasting the word. “Or revenge? You look at me sometimes like you want to burn everything down.”

I forced a smile. “Maybe I just don’t like arrogant billionaires who think the world revolves around them. This arrangement benefits both of us. You keep your company, I get security. Simple transaction.”

He poured more wine into both our glasses. “Nothing is ever simple with you. Tell me what you expect from this marriage. Rules. Boundaries. I need to hear them from your mouth.”

“No public displays unless absolutely necessary,” I said. “No digging into my personal life. And when this is over, we go our separate ways with no strings. Can you agree to that?”

Damien watched me carefully. “I can agree to most of it. But no digging? Impossible. I protect what’s mine, Elena. And for the next thirty days at least, you’ll be mine on paper. That means I will know everything.”

“Everything?” I challenged, raising my chin. “Even the parts I don’t want to share? That sounds more like control than protection.”

“Call it what you want,” he replied. “But if Adrian smells weakness, he’ll destroy us both. So tonight we start practicing how to act like a couple. Starting with dinner and honest conversation.”

“Honest?” I scoffed. “Coming from the man who probably has more secrets than anyone in this city. That’s rich.”

Damien’s lips curved slightly. “Touché. Maybe we’re more alike than you think. Both running from the past. Both willing to do whatever it takes.”

I set my glass down harder than intended. “I’m not running. I’m rebuilding. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” he asked softly. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re hiding behind a new name and a sharp tongue. Just like S used to do when she didn’t want to admit how she felt.”

My breath caught. “Stop comparing me to some ghost, Damien. It’s getting pathetic.”

He moved even closer until I could smell his cologne. “Then prove me wrong. Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing when I mention those late-night talks. That you don’t remember typing messages that made everything else disappear.”

I turned my face away. “I already told you I’m not her.”

Damien’s voice dropped. “And I told you I don’t believe in coincidences.”

I turned toward the guest wing, pulse racing. His voice stopped me in the hallway.

“One last thing,” he said quietly. “If I find out you’re lying to me, Elena… there won’t be anywhere you can hide.”

I looked back at him, letting some of my real anger show.

“Then I guess we both have something to lose now, don’t we?”