Fake Marrying My Ex's Father-In-Law

CHAPTER 003

TORIA’S POV

“Marry me.”

The moment those words left his mouth, I froze. My mind went completely blank, and for a few seconds, I honestly thought the restaurant had suddenly run out of air. I sat still in the expensive chair, staring at the man sitting opposite me, waiting for him to blink, laugh, or tell me that this was some kind of rich-man joke.

But Damien Rothwell did not look like the type of man who joked about anything, especially with the way his dark eyes remained fixed on mine.

“Not a real marriage,” he continued. “A contract. You pretend to be my wife, I pay you well, and in return, you help me get certain people off my back.”

“Excuse me?” I finally managed to say, leaning back against my chair so I could put some distance between us. “I think you must have hit your head on something, or maybe you misunderstood what just happened. I kissed you to get rid of a rude pervert for good, not to audition for the role of your bride.”

Damien did not look offended by my tone at all. He casually picked up his wine glass and took a slow sip, his expression remaining completely calm. "I am offering you a business arrangement. One that will solve a problem for both of us, provided you are smart enough to listen before you run away.”

“I do not need to marry a stranger to fix my problems, thank you very much,” I replied quickly, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to hide how fast my heart was beating. “You are a billionaire, Mr. Rothwell. You could walk out to the curb right now, wave your hand, and have fifty gorgeous models lining up to walk down the aisle with you by midnight. Why would you want some random girl from a restaurant who just forced an unwanted kiss on you?”

“Because those fifty women would expect romance, drama, emotional devotion, and half of my property when they decided they wanted a divorce,” Damien said evenly, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. “I do not want romance, and I certainly do not want a woman who tries to climb into my lap every time I turn around. I watched you handle that pathetic man over there, and you did not flinch, cry, or play the helpless victim. You are practical, you speak your mind, and you clearly know how to look after yourself. That makes you far more useful to me than anyone else I have spoken to all week.”

His voice was calm and steady, like he was negotiating the purchase of a piece of land instead of a marriage. I opened my mouth to tell him to go to hell because the whole idea sounded completely insane, but before the words could leave my lips, a sudden memory crashed into my mind and made my stomach twist into a knot.

I remembered Logan’s smug, handsome face and the exact words he had used when he broke my heart. He had cheated on me and dumped me like I meant nothing because his family wanted someone with status, and he had chosen Celine Rothwell, Damien’s very own spoiled daughter.

I remembered how Logan had looked down his nose at me, telling me that a girl from my background should know her place in the world. He had even had the audacity to suggest that I could stay on as his secret mistress after his wedding, smiling like he was doing me a huge favor because I was poor and had no powerful family to protect my reputation.

If I married Damien Rothwell, I would not just be escaping my stepmother’s endless parade of awful blind dates. I would become the legal stepmother to Logan’s new bride, and Logan would have to bow his head and address me with respect every single time we crossed paths.

The thought of the look on Logan’s face when he realized who I was married to sent a rush of satisfaction through me.

“What are the exact terms of this little arrangement?” I asked, leaning slightly forward and letting my cautious curiosity show on my face. “Because I am not going to ruin my life just to help you look good in the media.”

Damien’s eyes flickered with something like approval, though his mouth did not smile.

“You will sign a prenuptial contract that guarantees you complete financial independence for the rest of your life once the term is finished. You will receive a generous monthly allowance with no questions asked, all your personal debts will be cleared, and you will have full protection from anyone who tries to harass you. In exchange, you will accompany me to social events, play the part of a loyal wife in front of the cameras, and keep your mouth shut about the private details of our contract. You will have full freedom to live your daily life, work your job, and go wherever you please, as long as you do not bring scandal upon my name.”

It was an impossible offer, the kind of deal that made you check the corner of the room to see if someone was filming you for a prank show. My stepmother would never be able to set me up with another disgusting man like Eric again.

“There is one more thing,” Damien added, his voice dropping slightly, though his eyes never wavered from mine. “To make the public believe this is a genuine marriage and prevent the press from digging into our private affairs, you will have to move into my residence immediately after the paperwork is signed.”

My posture instantly went rigid, and all my alarms started ringing at once.

“Move in with you? Look, Mr. Rothwell, let us get something straight before we go any further. I am not going to be some secret plaything you keep behind closed doors, and I am definitely not sleeping in your bed.”

Damien let out a low, dry chuckle and shook his head slightly. "Do not flatter yourself, Miss…”

“Miss Hayes,” I completed for him.

“You will have your own private room in the north wing of the villa, and no one will interfere with your privacy. I have no interest in your body, and I will never force you into anything you do not want. As far as the bedroom is concerned, you have nothing to worry about. I have no intention of touching you.”

I looked at his stern, handsome face, taking in his sharp jawline and the cold composure that made him look completely untouchable. A small, reckless urge bubbled up inside me, partly because the tension between us was suffocating and partly because I wanted to see if I could crack the stone-cold mask he wore so comfortably.

“Is that so?” I asked, tilting my head with a slow, teasing smile that did not quite reach my eyes. “You know, that man I just slapped said that men your age are basically useless when it comes to the bedroom. Tell me honestly, Mr. Rothwell, is that why you are so eager to keep your hands to yourself? Are you really past your prime, or are you just not interested anymore?”

The atmosphere between us suddenly became tense. Damien did not flinch, but his eyes narrowed until they were dark and intense, fixing on me with an expression that made me hold my breath. He leaned slightly across the table, closing the distance between us.

“Miss Hayes, do you want to try?” he asked in a low, challenging voice.