The Proposition
1159 Words
Lena stormed into Damian Blackwood’s office, determined to tell him exactly where he could shove his arrogant demands.
But the moment she stepped inside, her confidence wavered.
The office was unlike anything she had ever seen. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Manhattan skyline, casting long shadows across sleek black leather furniture. A massive mahogany desk sat at the center, its polished surface free of clutter, save for a single whiskey glass and a neatly stacked pile of papers.
And behind that desk, Damian Blackwood.
He exuded power without even trying. Dressed in another impeccably tailored black suit, he sat with effortless authority, fingers steepled as he watched her enter. His gray eyes, cold and calculating, tracked her every movement, making her feel like prey walking straight into a trap.
She swallowed but didn’t let her hesitation show. Instead, she crossed her arms, lifting her chin.
“You’re late.” His voice was deep, smooth—like silk wrapped around steel.
Lena narrowed her eyes. “It’s 9:02.”
“Which means you’re late.”
Her jaw clenched. “You’re unbelievable.”
A flicker of something—amusement?—crossed his face, but it vanished almost instantly.
“Sit,” he ordered.
She remained standing. “I’m fine right here.”
His gaze darkened slightly. “Suit yourself.” He leaned back in his chair, exuding an infuriating level of calm. “Let’s get to the point. The media is already spinning stories about you. About us. And I don’t have time for distractions.”
Lena scoffed. “Then tell them the truth. That it was just an accident.”
“I did.” His fingers tapped against his desk. “They don’t care.”
Her stomach twisted. “What are they saying?”
He slid a tablet across the desk toward her. Reluctantly, she glanced at the screen.
Damian Blackwood’s Mystery Woman: The Billionaire’s Secret Love Affair?
Who Is Lena Moretti, and Why Is She So Close to Manhattan’s Most Elusive CEO?
An Engagement on the Horizon? Sources Say Blackwood Has Finally Met His Match!
Lena’s throat went dry. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“This is what happens when the media smells blood,” he said coolly. “They create a story where there isn’t one.”
She set the tablet down, exhaling sharply. “Okay. So what do we do?”
He didn’t hesitate. “We give them a different story.”
A cold shiver ran through her. “What kind of story?”
“The kind where you and I”—he paused, his voice lowering—“are in a relationship.”
Lena’s breath caught. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
She stared at him like he had lost his mind. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”
“Fiancée.”
The word hit her like a freight train.
For a moment, she was certain she had misheard him.
But the way he studied her, completely unreadable, told her he was dead serious.
Lena let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, absolutely not.”
He didn’t blink. “You don’t have much of a choice.”
“Excuse me?”
He slid another document toward her. “Take a look at this.”
She hesitated, then picked it up. As she skimmed the contents, her stomach dropped.
It was a contract.
A marriage contract.
Her eyes snapped back to his. “You can’t be serious.”
“I don’t joke about business.”
“This isn’t business, Blackwood. This is insanity.”
He exhaled, as if she were being unreasonable. “The media isn’t going to let this go. And I have an important deal on the line. Investors don’t like uncertainty. If they think I’m unstable or caught up in a scandal, it could jeopardize everything.”
“And why drag me into it?” she shot back. “Why not just—oh, I don’t know—hire a publicist to make this all go away?”
“Because this is the fastest way to control the narrative.” He leaned forward, his eyes dark and unwavering. “A fake engagement kills the scandal. It shifts the story into something I can manage.”
Lena shook her head, still reeling. “Why me?”
He considered her for a long moment. “Because you’re already in the headlines. And because, unlike the women in my world, you’re not after my money.”
That last part hit her harder than she expected.
She swallowed. “And what exactly do I get out of this?”
He didn’t hesitate. “One million dollars.”
Lena’s heart nearly stopped.
For a long moment, all she could do was stare at him.
“One… million?” she repeated, barely able to process the number.
“Yes.” His tone was even, as if offering someone a million dollars to fake an engagement was an everyday occurrence for him. “You’ll be provided with a place to stay, wardrobe, and security. In return, you’ll play the role of my fiancée until I decide the contract is fulfilled.”
Until he decided?
Lena’s stomach twisted.
It was ridiculous. Insane. And yet—
Her rent was overdue. Her art career was barely surviving. She had no steady income, no safety net.
A million dollars could change her life.
She hesitated too long, because Damian’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.
“You’re considering it.”
Lena scowled. “No, I’m not.”
“You are,” he said smoothly. “You wouldn’t still be standing here if you weren’t.”
Damn him.
She turned away, pacing. “This is insane. What happens when people find out it’s fake?”
“They won’t.”
“And if they do?”
“I’ll handle it.” His tone was final.
Lena turned back to face him. “And what happens when you decide this little arrangement is over?”
He didn’t hesitate. “You take your money and disappear from my life.”
She clenched her fists. Everything about this was wrong.
But the problem was—he was right.
She didn’t have many options.
And the longer she stood here, the more tempting the offer became.
Damian’s gaze bore into her. “What’s it going to be, Lena?”Her pulse thundered in her ears.
She could walk away now, go back to struggling, drowning in debt.
Or she could take a risk—one that could change everything. Finally, she exhaled, looking him straight in the eye.
“Fine.” She lifted her chin. “I’ll do it.”
His lips curved slightly. Not quite a smile. More like victory.“Good,” he murmured. “Then let’s get started.”
Lena had no idea what she had just signed up for.But she had a feeling that Damian Blackwood was about to make sure she never forgot it.
- Writer
