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Chapter 2: Terms of Engagement

Author: Nnenna
last update Last Updated: 2025-03-12 23:53:12

Aurora sat stiffly in the back of Damian Blackwell’s sleek black limousine, staring out at the city lights that blurred past the window. The weight of her decision pressed on her chest like a stone.

She was officially engaged to a man she despised.

Next to her, Damian lounged casually, as if this was nothing more than a routine business deal. He swirled the glass of whiskey in his hand, his gaze occasionally flicking to her with a hint of amusement.

"Relax, Aurora," he drawled. "You look like you're headed to your execution."

She shot him a glare. "That's exactly how it feels."

Damian smirked, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Marriage to me isn’t a death sentence, sweetheart. You might even enjoy it."

She snorted. "Don’t flatter yourself."

His eyes darkened slightly, but the smirk never left his face. "You’ll learn soon enough that I always collect on my debts, Aurora. And right now, you are mine to claim."

Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to remain calm. "You think this little arrangement makes you powerful over me, but let me be clear—"

Damian raised a brow, amused. "Oh, please, do clarify."

"I’m doing this for my father. Not because I want to."

His smirk faded, his jaw clenching. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes—but it was gone before she could place it.

"Keep telling yourself that," he said coolly.

The limo came to a stop in front of one of the most luxurious penthouses in the city. Aurora swallowed hard.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

Damian turned to her, his eyes glinting. "Welcome home, darling. If we're going to sell this marriage, we’ll need to live together."

Her heart stuttered. "Live together?"

He smirked. "What did you expect? Separate houses? Our first public event is tomorrow night, and everyone will expect us to act like newlyweds. We can't afford to mess this up."

Aurora crossed her arms. "Fine. But don’t expect me to share a bed with you."

He laughed, low and dark. "Relax, sweetheart. I don't plan on touching you... unless you beg me to."

Her cheeks flamed with anger. "Keep dreaming."

Damian opened the door and stepped out, holding a hand out to her mockingly like a gentleman.

"Shall we?"

With a deep breath, Aurora ignored his hand and climbed out on her own, her heels clicking against the pavement as she followed him inside.

The penthouse was stunning — floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the glittering skyline, marble floors, and furniture that probably cost more than her entire life savings.

"Make yourself at home," Damian said casually, loosening his tie as he walked toward the bar.

Aurora turned to him, her arms crossed. "I want rules."

He glanced at her over his shoulder, pouring himself another drink. "Rules?"

"Yes. No touching. No surprises. And when this year is over, we walk away, no questions asked."

Damian took a slow sip of his whiskey, watching her over the rim of the glass.

"Agreed... on one condition," he said finally, setting the glass down.

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

He stepped closer, his gaze intense. "In public, we act like the perfect couple. Smiles, hand-holding, kisses if necessary. You play your role, and I’ll play mine. No one can know this marriage is fake."

Aurora's stomach twisted. Kisses?

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "But behind closed doors, we are nothing."

Damian’s smirk returned, but his eyes gleamed with something darker, deeper.

"Behind closed doors, Aurora," he murmured, "things are rarely nothing."

She glared at him but refused to back down. "We'll see."

Damian stepped even closer, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. The gesture was so unexpected, so gentle, that Aurora froze.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I wonder how long you can keep pretending you don’t feel this fire between us."

Her breath caught in her throat, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"I’m not pretending," she lied.

Damian smiled, a slow, wicked smile. "Keep telling yourself that."

He stepped away, leaving her standing alone in the middle of his penthouse, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

As Damian disappeared into his room, Aurora let out a shaky breath.

She was in way over her head.

But one thing was clear—if she was going to survive this year, she couldn’t let herself fall for Damian Blackwell.

Because she had the sinking feeling he would ruin her completely if she did.

Aurora stood frozen for a long moment, her pulse still racing from Damian’s touch and his words that clung to her like a warning.

With a sharp breath, she forced her feet to move, wandering further into the penthouse. The luxury around her was overwhelming—like something out of a dream she was never meant to touch.

"Focus, Aurora," she whispered to herself.

This wasn’t her life. It was temporary. A means to an end.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just stepped into a gilded cage—beautiful, but a prison all the same.

Her gaze drifted to a wall filled with framed photos—Damian at corporate events, shaking hands with powerful men, and, surprisingly, a few candid shots that looked like they were taken without his knowledge. In one, he was staring out over the city, his face unreadable.

Does he ever let his guard down? she wondered.

"You're nosy."

Aurora jumped, spinning around to find Damian leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with that ever-present smirk.

"I wasn’t—" she started to defend herself, but he cut her off.

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t care if you look. You’ll be part of this world soon enough."

Her jaw tightened. "Don’t call me that."

"What? Sweetheart?" His smirk widened when her eyes narrowed. "Get used to it. In public, I’ll call you worse things if it makes us believable."

She bristled but didn’t respond. Arguing would only give him the satisfaction he seemed to crave.

"Your room is down the hall," he said, nodding toward a long corridor. "On the opposite side of mine. Thought I’d be generous and give you some space—though I can’t guarantee you’ll stay on your side of the line."

Aurora glared. "I’ll stay as far away from you as humanly possible."

Damian’s dark chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. "We’ll see."

He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her, stopping just close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes.

"For what it’s worth," he murmured, his gaze flicking to her lips before returning to her eyes, "you make a beautiful fiancée."

Aurora’s breath hitched, but she kept her face carefully blank.

"Save the act for the public," she snapped, though her cheeks burned.

Damian chuckled softly, clearly entertained by her attempt to remain unaffected.

"As you wish, darling."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the middle of his world—furious, confused, and far too aware of him.

---

Aurora’s room was as lavish as the rest of the penthouse, but she didn’t care about the view or the designer sheets. She sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing.

What had she agreed to?

Could she survive a year living with Damian Blackwell—pretending to be his adoring wife in public while hating him in private?

Or worse... what if she didn’t hate him as much as she thought?

A soft knock at the door made her jump.

"What?" she called, more sharply than she intended.

Damian’s voice, smooth and lazy, came through the door. "Just wanted to remind you—tomorrow night is our first appearance as a couple. Black-tie charity gala. I’ll have a dress delivered. Be ready by seven."

She swallowed hard. Their first public outing.

Before she could respond, Damian added, "Oh, and Aurora?"

She hesitated. "What?"

His voice lowered, dark and velvety. "You better get used to being on my arm. Because tomorrow, everyone will see you as mine."

Aurora’s heart pounded as his footsteps retreated down the hall.

She flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Mine.

The word echoed in her mind, more dangerous than she wanted to admit.

She had made a deal with the devil—and now, there was no turning back.

---

As Aurora drifted off to sleep that night, one thought haunted her:

How do you guard your heart from a man who seems determined to break down every wall you’ve built?

And worse... what if a part of her wanted him to?

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