Proposal

Chapter 2:

(Sophia’s POV)

My hands trembled as I scrolled through the headlines on my phone, my pulse racing with every word.

BREAKING NEWS: Billionaire Damien Lancaster Secretly Weds in Vegas!

Who Is the Mystery Woman Who Stole New York’s Most Eligible Bachelor?

Vegas Wedding Shock: Damien Lancaster’s Unexpected Bride Revealed!

Every major media outlet had picked up the story.

My throat felt tight. My chest heaved with shallow breaths. This couldn’t be real.

This wasn’t just some gossip piece buried at the bottom of a website. This was front-page news. My face—my actual face—was plastered all over the internet, alongside pictures of Damien and me from last night.

Some were blurry, paparazzi shots of us stumbling out of the chapel, while others were clear as day—Damien’s arm wrapped around my waist, his lips brushing my temple.

Oh, God.

I forced myself to take deep, steadying breaths, but it didn’t help. The world around me was crumbling.

I glanced up at Damien, my heart hammering.

He stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, dressed in nothing but a pair of expensive-looking lounge pants that hung low on his hips. 

Unlike me, he looked calm. Too calm.

How could he be so composed when my entire life had just exploded into a tabloid circus?

“We need to fix this,” I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. I swallowed hard, forcing the words past my dry throat. “An annulment. Right away.” Like we just discussed

Damien turned, his piercing eyes locking onto mine with unnerving intensity.

“Not an option again.”

My stomach twisted.

What?

I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

He exhaled sharply, his jaw flexing as he strode toward me with measured, deliberate steps.

“The moment we file for an annulment, it’ll raise even more suspicion,” he said coolly. “Right now, the media thinks this is real.”

I clutched the sheets tighter. “But it’s not real! This was a drunken mistake!.

Damien crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles tightening with the motion.

“Exactly,” he said. “And if we rush to undo it, they’ll dig deeper. They’ll turn this into a scandal. You think they’ll just let it go?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

He was right.

The press wouldn’t just forget about this. The second we filed for an annulment, headlines would explode with speculation. Paparazzi would hound me, digging into every part of my life.

I could already see the clickbait articles.

‘Billionaire Damien Lancaster’s 24-Hour Wife: What Happened in Vegas?’

‘Mystery Bride Speaks Out—The Truth Behind Their Sudden Split!’

I felt sick.

I wasn’t built for this kind of attention. I was a nobody—just a fashion designer struggling to get her big break. I had spent years working behind the scenes, not in the spotlight.

And now, suddenly, I was the center of the biggest gossip story in the country.

I forced myself to meet Damien’s gaze.

“So, what do we do?” I asked, dreading his answer.

His jaw tensed. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes before he spoke.

“We stay married.”

A sharp, incredulous laugh burst from my lips. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

His voice was firm, unwavering.

I shook my head, my pulse hammering. “Stay married? To you?”

His lips twitched—just a slight movement, as if he found my disbelief amusing.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world."

I stared at him, searching for some sign that he was messing with me. But there was no humor in his expression.

Damien Lancaster was dead serious.

---

(Damien’s POV)

Sophia’s brown eyes widened in shock, her lips parting as she struggled to process my words.

Her reaction was expected.

She probably thought I was insane.

Hell, maybe I was.

But I knew how the media worked. This wasn’t just a minor inconvenience—this was a PR nightmare.

If we ended this marriage too quickly, it would trigger a feeding frenzy. Reporters would rip apart our lives, trying to uncover the truth.

I had spent years crafting a carefully controlled public image—one that exuded power, control, and absolute indifference to anything emotional.

A rushed annulment would send the wrong message.

It would make me look reckless. Impulsive.

Weak.

I wouldn’t let that happen.

So, there was only one logical solution.

Sophia and I needed to stay married—at least for a year .

She gawked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Stay married?” she repeated, like she was hoping I’d suddenly change my mind. “Damien, this is insane."

I slid my hands into my pockets, my stance relaxed despite the chaos around us.

“It’s practical.”

She let out a disbelieving scoff. “Practical? Getting married in Vegas was a mistake! Fixing it is what’s practical!”

I exhaled, my patience thinning.

“Think about it,” I said evenly. “If we stay married for at least a year , let the media lose interest, we can quietly separate later without raising suspicion.”

She shook her head, her expression one of pure disbelief.

“This is crazy. We don’t even like each other!”

I smirked. “That’s irrelevant.”

She let out a strangled sound, half-frustrated, half-exasperated.

“Do you even hear yourself?” She threw up her hands. “You’re Damien Lancaster. You don’t do relationships. You don’t even believe in love."

Love.

The word itself was meaningless to me.

Love was a liability. An illusion people clung to because they were too weak to handle reality.

I had no interest in it.

This wasn’t about love.

This was about damage control.

“I don’t need to believe in love to know how to handle a crisis.” My voice was calm, unaffected. “And this, Sophia, is a crisis.”

She bit her lower lip, clearly trying to process everything.

I could see the gears turning in her head—the internal battle between her emotions and logic.

Finally, she exhaled sharply, frustration evident in her every movement.

“This is insane,” she muttered. “Completely insane.”

“But necessary,” I countered smoothly.

Her shoulders sagged.

She knew I was right.

I watched as she rubbed her temples, closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, her gaze met mine, filled with reluctant acceptance.

“Fine,” she said stiffly. “But I swear to God, if this backfires, I’m blaming you.”

I smirked.

“Deal.”