Faking It With Damian Black Novel Novels & Stories

Inside was a dream; tall walls, open space, windows so big you could see everything yet nothing at all. The isolation of the property both excited and scared me, and the longer I walked around holding Armani’s hand, the more I began to feel a little hopeful again. My concerns over the last day felt silly — presumptuous. Though a part of my brain was still very aware that this could turn sour very quickly, I allowed myself to enjoy this simple few minutes with my fake husband and even smile, just a little bit.

Doman’s POV Dami froze beside me the instant we saw Axel and another woman. The argument between them stopped immediately. Axel’s face turned crimson, like a man caught redhanded. “What the hell is happening here?” Dami’s voice was sharp. I quietly handed her bag to her sneaky assistant, Sophia, and folded my arms. Axel didn’t answer. The woman crossed her arms with defiance. “And what does it look like? Mind your business, bitch.” Damn. She had guts. I loved a good scene, but this was Dami’s moment not mine.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t have the strength to banter with you.” Ken shot him daggers as he walked away. Damien smiled. Even if his first love started out as a contracted wife, he still ended up making her stay and that was all that mattered. Author Note: This is the end of this beautiful book. I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it too. Thank you for the support. I am always grateful, do leave comments and reviews. Thank you, again. THE END!

It was like I keep getting to junction where I unravel a new personality of Damian at each step. More like a ghh game. I kept taking the layers off but it never seemed to end. “What do you they say happened?” “He got on the bad side of one of his victims and they targeted his brother for revenge.” “It happened back in Italy. Now that I thought of it, maybe that's why he permanently relocated here.” Was this true? How much authencity was in those papers and blog posts.. But in the a small part of my mind, a voice warned me to trust it.

Damien believed he was that way, and now, seeing Lucian doing the same to him, he understood how wrong he had been. Before Damien arrived at the Black Night Pack house territory, he had been sure his plan was foolproof and he was going to rescue Emberlynn without any form of drama. But he was surprised he had been ambushed. With all that Lucian had said, he seemed to know he was coming to his pack house. Someone was a spy in his and had told Lucian he would be arriving. Damien snarled. Both Lucian, Selene and the spy he was going to kill all three of them as soon as he stepped out of the dratted prison.

You were a ten billion naira deal again. Was she? Was everything Damian did just because of his father's contract? The pretend girlfriend contract in Chapter 3, the Banana Island dinner in Chapter 5, the kiss in the elevator in Chapter 6 that he said he didn't mean, the proposal in his office when Tunde was arrested - was it all fake? "Lena!" Damian's voice came from behind. She turned. He had run after her, his black tuxedo jacket gone, his bow tie loose, his face sweating. He left Cassandra inside. He chose her.

The command is burned into me: eyes down. Polished leather shoes enter my field of vision. Black. Impeccably shined. A hand,large, steady,reaches down, tilts my chin up with two fingers. I raise my eyes. Damian Blackwood stands over me. Tailored black shirt, sleeves rolled to mid-forearm. No tie. Top two buttons open. On the other hand: my phone. Screen lit. Our chat thread is visible. My world tilts. He looks down at me,lace-clad, plugged, kneeling,and his mouth curves into the smallest, most dangerous smile I’ve ever seen.

But I’m not finished. She would rebuild. She would rise. She would take back her career, her name, her power. And when she stood at the top again, a phoenix from the ashes? She would make them burn. She opened her laptop again, her fingers a blur, this time typing: “Damian Blackwell medical condition”. Before she could hit enter, a soft cough echoed from the doorway. Amara jolted, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. Damian stood there. Tall. Imposing. Dressed in a black turtleneck and tailored slacks, his hair slightly tousled, as if he’d just run a hand through it in a moment of frustration. His silver-gray eyes, sharp and intelligent, locked onto hers.

Damian whispered into my hair, voice low enough to stir my skin: “Vivian… don’t scare me like this again.” His hand tightened gently around mine. “Promise me.” I opened my mouth to respond, but my eyelids were already heavy, sleep tugging me under. Just before I drifted off, I whispered, “I promise.” But even half-asleep, one thought burned quietly in my mind. If Damian keeps caring for me like this… How much longer will I be able to pretend I’m not falling for him

Which was never a good sign. “Permit me to do something super crazy.” My eyes widened immediately. That sentence alone was enough to make me nervous. Because with normal people, “super crazy” could mean ordering dessert before dinner. With Damian? Super crazy could mean starting a war. “Damian, don’t...” Too late because of course he didn’t wait for my response. Why would he? This was Damian Blackwood. The same man who casually invited my emotional trauma over for dinner like he was offering free dessert.