Faking It With Damian Black Novel Novels & Stories

His father had retired early, smug as always, confident his plan was unfolding perfectly. But Damian wasn’t confident. He couldn’t stop thinking about Evelyn—her defiance, her trembling, her quiet strength. She wasn’t like the women who usually circled him, all polish and pretense. She was raw. Real. Too real. And that made her dangerous. He took a long drink, eyes narrowing. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not now. Not ever. Yet the truth pressed against his chest like a weight he couldn’t ignore. For the first time in years, Damian Blackwood wasn’t sure if he was in control.

TRACEY'S P.O.V I flopped onto my bed, staring at the book still clutched in my hands. Damien Black was an enigma. One second, he was ice-cold and impossible to talk to and the next, he was throwing out sly remarks, daring me to keep up. Was he bipolar or just enjoying playing with my head? I groaned, tossing the book onto the bed beside me. Maybe I was overthinking it, and this was just him.

When would I ever find such love. Anyway, I decided that it was the reverse of what Wesley Black had done with her husband. If anyone could pull her out, it was him-or the illusion of him. It was why I decided to craft a message to her from Damian, to make it one that would seem real enough to get past her skepticism. To do this well enough, I needed a phone number she would not recognize yet would be close enough for her to actually believe that it belonged to him.

And Damian… Damian is a Lycan blooded Alpha. Even if I tried to fight, I wouldn’t last one second. But still, my eyes flick toward the heavy lamp. The corner table. The chair leg. I run through every weapon I could use—every opening I might find. But the answers are all the same. He’s stronger and he will win. The mattress creaks as I sit, bones stiff with dread. I stare at the floor, the lingerie clinging to my damp skin, praying for some miracle, some divine intervention—

Not the Blackwood heir. Just Damian. The man beneath everything. And I liked that man far more than I should. At one point he reached across the table and took my hand. Naturally. Like it belonged there. Neither of us commented on it. Neither of us pulled away. The moonlight reflected across the ocean. The atmosphere felt almost magical. Then Damian suddenly spoke. “Can I ask you something?” I looked up. “Sure.” “If there had been no scandal…” His thumb brushed my hand. “No fake marriage.”

"The bots are running. 100k votes against. He'll never win." "He wants more. He wants them separated permanently." "I can access the league's server. For a price." Damian's hands shook. He scrolled up. The messages went back weeks—before the championship game, before the blackmail, before any of it. Carla had been working with Damian's father the whole time. She had helped him fake the stroke. She had helped him call the journalist. She had helped him rig the vote. "Sebastian," Damian said. Sebastian walked over. He looked at the phone. His face went pale.

The night my destiny was broken. I stood frozen as the memory replayed itself, cruel and merciless. Damian’s eyes met mine—golden, proud, unreadable. The bond that had just snapped into existence pulsed between us, and I could feel my own heartbeat echoing in the silence before he spoke the words that had haunted me for years. “I, Damian Blackwood, reject you.” His voice cut through me like steel, and the crowd’s murmurs became daggers in my ears. I remembered the taste of humiliation, the burn of tears, the scream I never let out.

You have got to be kidding me… "You're a real jerk, you know that?" I said, finally grabbing the glass and taking a swallow. It burned like hell, but it felt good. "I’m a Black. 'Jerk' is the entry-level requirement," Damien shrugged. He was watching me, his gaze lingering on my lips as I pulled the glass away. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt….hot. "Dominic thinks he's going to use you to win a corporate war," Damien said, his voice dropping to a low, rough murmur.

Chapter Fifteen: bad girls get punished No, this can't actually be happening to me. I actually can't believe this! Damien Blackwood kills people! This isn't one of my wild, low-key insane fantasies of him being a psycho in a suit, of him living a secret life as a ruthless mafia boss- I wasn't turned on in this situation, That's why fantasies should be just that- fantasies. This has by far been the worst day of my life, after the day I found out that mom had been shot dead.

said Damian, grabbing Blake by the waistline, and scooping him over to Damian’s right broad shoulder. “But my juice—!” Exclaimed Blake, kicking and punching Damian’s chest and back. Present day “The usual reasons,” said Damian shrugging. Not telling the Headmistress the whole story, “His mother is out of the picture, and my company … doesn’t provide childcare.” He said avoiding the Headmistress’s eyes. Damian was the Mafia boss, yes, but when it came to lying, he was terrible at it. “Well, your son will be in good hands,” said the Headmistress, pointing at the nanny candidates, “As you can see, we have excellent candidates. What are you looking for exactly?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.