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1082 Words
Lena sat on the edge of the suite’s massive bed, her bare feet pressed against the cold marble floor. The Vegas sun streamed through the towering windows, mocking her with its relentless cheer.
She didn’t belong here.
This was the kind of room meant for the rich and careless, for women who wore designer dresses and knew how to navigate nights like this without consequence. Not for her, a waitress from Brooklyn with overdue rent and a sick little sister counting on her.
Yet here she was, hungover, half-dressed, married to a man whose last name she hadn’t known until this morning.
And now he was making calls on the other side of the room, his voice low and sharp, pacing in nothing but black slacks that clung to his lean hips.
Lena tried not to watch him. Tried not to notice the way the muscles in his back flexed when he moved, or how his hand ran through his dark hair in frustration.
She tried.
And failed.
Because Damon Cross was the kind of man you noticed.
She hated herself a little for it.
His phone call ended with a clipped “Handle it.” He turned to face her, expression unreadable.
“I need to explain a few things,” he began.
“No,” Lena snapped, rising to her feet. “What you need to do is call that chapel, sign whatever papers you rich people sign, and make this whole thing disappear.”
Damon’s mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile.
“I’m serious,” she pressed, crossing her arms. “I’m not one of those girls looking for a meal ticket, okay? I don’t want your money, your name, or your pity.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
That gave her pause.
“You… do?”
“I wouldn’t have married you if you were.”
There was something in his tone , a note of reluctant respect that both confused and annoyed her.
She narrowed her eyes. “Then why did you marry me at all?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He strode to the minibar, poured two glasses of whiskey, and tossed it back like water.
“I had a problem,” he admitted, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “And in my… less than sober state last night, marrying you seemed like a solution.”
Her stomach turned. “A solution to what?”
He hesitated.
And that hesitation told her it wasn’t something trivial.
“I can’t get into it,” he finally said. “But it’s about business. My business. And timing matters.”
She let out a harsh laugh. “So I’m just a business decision to you?”
“Last night, yes.” He met her gaze, unflinching. “But now… it’s more complicated.”
Lena’s heart hammered in her chest. She wasn’t naive. Damon Cross might be gorgeous, but men like him didn’t just get complicated over girls like her.
“What does that mean?”
He took a step closer. The sunlight cut across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the firm curve of his mouth.
“It means this marriage can’t be annulled. Not right away.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll pay you,” he added quickly. “Compensate you for your time. A few weeks, maybe a month tops. Just until I settle some… obligations. Then we part ways, no strings.”
“No strings,” she repeated, the words tasting bitter.
Damon sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this isn’t what you planned. It sure as hell wasn’t what I planned. But trust me , it’s cleaner this way.”
“Cleaner?” Her voice rose. “You think keeping me in your life for a few weeks like some rented bride is cleaner than ending this now?”
His eyes darkened. “Yes.”
They stood there, the air between them thick with anger and something heavier.
And damn him , he had the audacity to look calm, while her entire world tilted off its axis.
“I have a sister,” she blurted, desperate to make him see her as a person, not a pawn. “Harper. She’s sick. I have a life I can’t just abandon because some arrogant billionaire decided I’m part of his business plan.”
Something flickered in Damon’s expression at that. Not pity no, he was too proud for that but something close to concern.
“I’ll make sure she’s taken care of,” he said quietly.
“You don’t even know her,” Lena snapped. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” he murmured, his voice softening in a way that made her stomach twist.
Lena hated how a part of her wanted to believe him.
She swallowed, fighting the tears burning behind her eyes. “What exactly do you want from me?”
Damon stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest.
“For now?” His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Just stay married to me.”
Lena’s breath caught.
“And after ‘a few weeks’?”
“After that, you’ll never have to see me again.”
It was a deal with the devil, and she knew it. Every instinct screamed that nothing about this man or this situation would end cleanly.
But then she thought of Harper’s fragile frame, of the hospital bills piling up, of the landlord’s voicemail.
She thought of how bone-tired she was of fighting alone.
Maybe, for once, she didn’t have to.
“How much?” she asked, hating herself as she said it.
Damon’s mouth twitched into a dark, knowing smile. “We’ll discuss it over breakfast.”
Her stomach growled traitorously, and she scowled.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she muttered, grabbing her dress from the floor.
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare.”
As he turned to grab his phone again, Lena sank back onto the bed, her heart pounding.
She didn’t trust him.
Not for a second.
But as deals went, it was the only one on the table.
And if Damon Cross thought she was going to be a quiet, obedient trophy wife for even a single day, he was in for one hell of a surprise.
- Writer
