BECOMING MRS CROSS

004

The drive from Vegas to the private airfield was long .

Lena sat stiffly in the back of the sleek black car, staring out the window at the endless stretch of desert. The city’s bright lights had faded behind them, leaving nothing but open sky and miles of emptiness. She felt the same way inside and out, a little lost, and dangerously close to unraveling.

Damon was on his phone the entire ride, issuing orders and checking stock reports like it was just another morning. As if he hadn’t woken up married to a stranger. As if he hadn’t just bought a few weeks of her life like it was another business acquisition.

The man was infuriatingly composed.

And so stupidly, impossibly handsome.

She hated that part the most.

Lena crossed her arms over her chest, her stomach twisting as she thought about Harper. What would she tell her sister? That she married a billionaire in Vegas and was now being whisked away to God knows where for “business reasons”? She couldn’t even call. Damon’s people had taken her phone “for security reasons.”

Bullshit.

The moment they pulled up beside the gleaming private jet, Lena’s pulse jumped. She’d never been on a plane this luxurious. She’d never even seen one this close. The glossy black exterior gleamed under the midmorning sun, and two perfectly groomed attendants stood waiting at the stairs.

Damon stepped out first, unbothered by the desert heat, his sunglasses in place, his tailored suit jacket slung over his shoulder like he was shooting a damn magazine cover.

She wanted to kick him.

“Come on, Mrs. Cross,” he called, not even looking back. “Unless you’d rather stay in Vegas.”

Lena clenched her jaw, snatched up the small overnight bag one of his staff had packed for her, and followed.

The inside of the jet was ridiculous , ivory leather seats, gold fixtures, a fully stocked bar. She sank into one of the plush chairs across from him as the engines began to hum.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” she muttered.

Damon arched a brow, loosening his tie. “You’ll be grateful for this in a few hours.”

“Unlikely.”

He leaned back, studying her. “You’re not what I expected.”

She frowned. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I figured you’d be sobbing, clinging to me, demanding a ring upgrade.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” she bit out. “I’m not one of your little trust-fund groupies.”

Damon smirked, that aggravating, perfect mouth curving just enough to make her stomach flip and not in a good way.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”

The plane took off smoothly, the city shrinking below them. Lena gripped the armrests, hating how even the takeoff here was different. Softer. Cleaner. Like even gravity played by different rules when you had enough money.

Once they leveled out, a flight attendant brought them glasses of champagne.

Lena waved hers off.

Damon took his, swirling the glass thoughtfully. “So… Harper,” he said, his voice unexpectedly gentler. “You didn’t mention a sister last night.”

“I didn’t mention a lot of things last night,” she snapped.

His gaze didn’t waver. “Is she okay?”

Lena hesitated. She hadn’t meant to bring Harper into this mess. But something about the way he asked, about the quiet gravity in his tone, made her answer.

“She’s sick,” Lena said softly, staring out the window. “Cystic fibrosis. It’s… bad. She needs a transplant.”

Damon nodded, no pity in his expression. “And you’re the one taking care of her.”

“No one else will.”

The silence between them stretched. Then Damon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black card , the kind of thing that practically radiated power.

“Put what you need on this,” he said, sliding it across the table to her. “For her care. Rent. Whatever.”

Lena stiffened. “I don’t want your charity.”

“It’s not charity. It’s compensation.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You married me,” Damon said evenly. “And for now, that’s enough.”

Lena stared at the card, her pride and desperation warring inside her. Every instinct screamed not to take it that nothing came free from a man like him.

But Harper’s face flashed in her mind, pale and tired, trying to be brave for her big sister.

Swallowing hard, Lena pocketed the card.

“Just until this is over,” she warned.

Damon’s smile was slow and knowing. “Of course.”

The hours passed in tense, loaded silence. Lena pretended to nap. Damon pretended not to watch her.

When the plane finally landed, Lena stepped out into a different world. No city lights, no towering hotels. Just rolling hills, a massive estate in the distance, and enough land to swallow Brooklyn whole.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“My home,” Damon said simply.

Of course it was.

Black sedans were waiting to escort them up a long, winding driveway. The mansion that came into view looked like something out of an old European film all stone facades, tall windows, and sprawling gardens.

As the car slowed, Lena noticed something else: people waiting by the entrance. Staff, by the look of them, but also a tall woman in a sharp navy suit and a man with a face like stone.

Damon’s jaw tightened.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured.

Before she could ask why, the car door opened.

“Mr. Cross,” the woman greeted smoothly. “Welcome home.”

“Is my office ready?” Damon asked, his voice all business again.

“Yes, sir.”

Lena stepped out behind him, and the woman’s sharp gaze flicked over her. For a brief second, something unreadable passed in her expression. Then it was gone.

“And who is this?” she asked coolly.

Damon didn’t hesitate. He reached for Lena’s hand and though she wanted to pull away, the pressure of his fingers against hers made her stomach jump.

“My wife,” Damon said evenly. “Mrs. Lena Cross.”

A sharp pause.

Lena’s heart pounded.

“Of course,” the woman said after a beat, her smile tight. “We weren’t aware you’d… remarried.”

Damon’s grip tightened.

“Things move fast in Vegas,” he said, a hint of warning in his voice.

“Indeed.” The woman stepped aside. “Your office is waiting. And the board has been asking for you.”

“Let them wait.”

Without another word, Damon tugged Lena inside, leaving the others behind. The house was cool and dim, a maze of marble floors and vaulted ceilings.

“What the hell was that about?” Lena whispered.

Damon didn’t answer until they were alone in a long hallway.

“I told you,” he said quietly. “This isn’t just about you and me.”

And in that moment, Lena knew that whatever she’d gotten herself into wasn’t over.

Not even close.