Chapter 8

• I stared at him.
• No gawked at him, like I’d just been told the sky was falling.
• Damien stood there, ice and power cloaked in Armani, as if the words marry me hadn’t just detonated every neuron in my brain.
• Was I hallucinating?
• I touched my temple, half expecting to feel blood. “Doctor,” I muttered, barely above a whisper, “someone get the doctor. I think I hit my head harder than I thought. I’m seeing things. Hearing voices. I think I might be concussed.”
• Beside me, Logan looked just as shell-shocked though far more entertained. “I didn’t even fall,” he said, blinking, “and I think I have brain damage too.”
• This couldn’t be real.
• I’d saved a child. A beautiful, quiet little boy. That should’ve been the end of it. A nod of gratitude, a thank-you fruit basket, maybe a stack of hush money in an envelope.
• But this?
• This man this man was offering marriage like it was some logical consequence.
• To anyone else, I might’ve laughed. Might’ve thought it romantic, even. But this wasn’t a daydream or a fairytale. This was Damien the cold-blooded godfather of half the city’s underworld, the man whose name made criminals and CEOs alike lose sleep.
• And he was looking at me like I was already his.
• It didn’t make sense.
• I mean, I wasn’t ugly, sure but a man like him? He’d probably had women lining up since birth. Models, heiresses, the kind of women who smelled like old money and Chanel No. 5.
• If he’d said he wanted to spend the night with me out of boredom, I could’ve processed that. A fling? A distraction? Fine. Men like him were allowed their vices.
• But marriage?
• That was something else entirely.
• It was terrifying.
• “…Aren’t you gay?” I blurted, before I could stop myself.
• I instantly regretted it.
• Logan doubled over in laughter so fast he nearly fell out of his chair. “Oh my God,” he wheezed, holding his stomach, “did she just ?!”
• Damien’s face darkened. Not a little. A lot. The temperature in the room dropped five degrees, and I instinctively leaned back, like that subtle shift in his jaw might turn into an execution order.
• The storm in his eyes said more than words ever could.
• Logan, barely able to breathe, choked out between laughs, “If my brother was gay, sweetheart, then where the hell do you think Little Treasure came from?”
• I blinked. “Surrogacy? Artificial insemination?”
• That only made him laugh harder. “Okay, okay but seriously! If he were gay, why would he offer to marry you?”
• “Maybe…” I squinted. “To hide it? A cover-up?”
• Logan gasped like I’d slapped him. “Oh my God, I can’t help you anymore, bro. She thinks we’re ” His laughter spiraled again.
• I couldn’t help it I glanced between the two of them. Their chemistry was undeniable. Handsome. Close. Weirdly close.
• Wait…
• I leaned in slightly, my voice lower. “There are rumors that the two of you are…”
• Logan stopped breathing.
• He looked at me, deadpan. “No. No no no. Absolutely not. That’s not just crossing the line that’s leaping off a cliff in a flaming car.”
• I raised an eyebrow.
• He placed a dramatic hand on his heart. “Listen, I’m sexy enough to be a danger to both genders, but I draw the line at family, thank you very much.”
• Despite everything, a laugh broke free from my lips. Tension cracked like glass in the air around us but not entirely. Because when I turned back to Damien, he still hadn’t smiled.
• Still hadn’t moved.
• His silence wasn't born from confusion or amusement. It was intent. Heavy. Calculated.
• He meant what he said.
• And maybe the scariest part wasn’t that he’d asked me to marry him.
• It was that a small, reckless part of me wondered
• What if I said yes?
• I knew I’d crossed a line the moment he stood up.
• Damien rose from his chair with a slow, deliberate grace that didn’t belong to ordinary men. His movements were smooth, controlled, like a predator closing in. His gaze dark, unreadable never left me as he adjusted the cuff of his tailored sleeve.
• “Logan,” he said, voice low, dangerous, “take Little Treasure out.”
• Logan blinked. “Wait what are you going to do?”
• Damien didn't answer immediately. He took a step toward me, and then another. Each one struck like a drumbeat inside my chest. Then, with terrifying calm, he said, “Prove my sexual orientation.”
• What?!
• My heart stopped.
• That look in his eyes it wasn’t just cold anymore. It was scorching. Possessive. Like I’d just become something he fully intended to make his.
• And I... panicked.
• Like, full-body, survival-mode panic.
• I scrambled out of bed so fast I tripped over the blanket and fell flat onto the floor. My hands scraped against the tiles, but I barely felt it. I pushed myself up and backed away, positioning myself behind the only shield I could find Little Treasure’s sleeping form.
• If I could’ve fit under the bed, I would’ve gone there too.
• “Mr. King,” I blurted out, breath catching, “I didn’t start any of those rumors, okay? I just heard them somewhere random gossip, seriously! If you want to be mad at someone, track down whoever started it, not the poor girl who repeated it out of nerves!”
• I waved my hands wildly, trying to dispel the black cloud forming around him.
• “And you really don’t need to repay me for anything! If you absolutely have to do something, then just… don’t ask me for anything else! That’s my request, okay?”
• My voice went up an octave as I made for the door. “Also, I have an audition coming up. Super important. Very life-changing. So, um, I really need to go now. Goodbye! If fate brings us together again, awesome, if not, take care, all right?”
• I turned to bolt.
• But I didn’t make it two steps before his voice stopped me cold.
• “Did I permit you to leave?”
• My legs froze. God help me.
• I turned back slowly, teeth clenched, waiting for the guillotine to drop.
• But instead of a gun or a threat, Damien held out… a pen and paper?
• My brain took a full second to catch up.
• “Would you mind leaving a note for Little Treasure?” he asked, his voice unreadable. “So he doesn’t worry when he wakes.”
• That was it?
• Just… a note?
• I nodded so fast I felt dizzy. “Yes! Of course! I can write him an entire novel if you want. Ten thousand words. Minimum.”
• Relief slammed into me like a tidal wave as I rushed forward and snatched the pen. I scribbled a sweet, rushed message for the boy and signed it with a smiley face, just to prove how not terrified I was.
• Then I ran.
• Literally ran.
• I didn’t look back once.
• But I felt him watching me as I fled.
• Not with anger… but with something else. A quiet hunger. A patience that made my skin crawl.
• As if I’d just been marked and no matter how far I ran, I was already caught.
• ..
• After I was gone, I heard what happened next from a very chatty makeup artist with a cousin in the King’s household.
• Apparently, Logan had sidled up to his brother the moment I vanished and whispered, “Bro… did I dream that? You actually like her? It’s been thirty-two years! I thought even your patience was about to expire. I mean, I was seriously starting to think you were ”
• “Shut up.”
• Two words. That’s all it took to silence a man like Logan.
• But deep down, I could imagine the gleam in his brother’s eyes when he said it.
• And the terrifying part?
• Somewhere in me, buried beneath the panic and the logic and the fear...
• I wanted him to chase me.