HIS FAKE BRIDE, HIS REAL OBSESSION

Insanity At It’s Peak

Evelyn’s Point of View

As soon as I entered my office, I shut the door behind me, and the stern sound echoed all through.

“Whoa, what has got you over the edge?” The voice of my best friend, Mia, drew me out of my head and I saw her sitting on one of the chairs behind my desk.

“Mia.” I sighed and walked forward before falling into my seat. “It’s just some guy that barged in, took over, and now thinks he can make decisions without understanding the people who built this company.” I gestured wildly. “Mass layoffs? Just like that? He’s insane.”

“Damian Wolfe?” Mia asked.

My head snapped towards her direction. “You know him?”

“Nope, but we got a tip about him.” Mia tilted her head. “That's why I’m here.”

“A tip?”

She nodded. “I did a quick search on him earlier and Eve, this guy is a ghost.”

I frowned. “A ghost?”

Mia nodded. “There’s barely anything on him. No corporate history, no official records of past companies he’s worked for. It’s like he appeared out of nowhere.”

“Is that even possible?” I asked as a frown found its way to my face.

“Maybe with a little more deep search, it won’t be impossible, but something doesn’t add up, Eve.” She tapped the desk. “I feel it deep in my bones.”

Mia was one with a strong intuition, a trait that helped with her job as a journalist, so her words had to be valid. If something truly was up, I intended to find out what it was. Just then, an email popped up on my company laptop screen.

“What the hell…” I breathed out as I stared at the laptop screen.

“What?” Mia asked as she made her way towards me. “They’re laying people off from the company?”

I scoffed. “The idea had only been brought to the board like a few minutes ago and they had gone through with it so soon, just like that.” Shaking my head, I got up. “I can’t allow this.”

“Eve? Where are you going?” I heard Mia say as I walked out of my office but I was too mad to answer.

I made my way back to the boardroom but on reaching, I found it empty. Immediately, I made a sharp turn and walked to the office of the crisis manager. On getting there, I just opened the door and entered without knocking.

Damian Wolfe was seated behind the black, sleek desk with one hand lying idly on the armrest and the other shuffling through a file. He hardly glanced up when I came in, but I caught the ghost of a smirk at the edge of his lips.

“Ms. Carter.” He talked with ease, as though he had been expecting me. “Surely, you should know how to knock, shouldn’t you?”

I slammed the door behind me. “What the hell was that? You’re really cutting departments and staff, Mr. Wolfe?” I raised my voice and ignored his question.

He tilted his head at me and closed the file on his desk. Intertwining his finger, he held my gaze with those dark, bottomless grey eyes of his that looked like storm clouds before they burst.

“That is called leadership.” He said coolly.

I approached and slammed my hands on his desk, ignoring the sting. "No, that—this is insane.”

He arched a brow, clearly amused by my anger. “Do elaborate.”

I breathed sharply, trying to gather myself. "You attacked the board with your move to fire a quarter of our workers. You didn’t consult anyone, didn’t even bother understanding the impact. You just swung the axe and expected everyone to nod along.”

“Because it was necessary and oh, I didn’t just swing the axe.” He shook his head. “I kept the axe on the table of the board members, and they all agreed with me swinging it.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Necessary? Do you even hear yourself? The board members don’t even care about the well-being of their staff, all they care about is their pockets!”

He didn't answer. His face was blank, but there was something in his eyes—something pointed, something analytical.

"Do you think I made that decision lightly?" He said. "I'm here to clean up a mess, not to make friends or worry about what made the mess or even how it was created."

"You're not being of any help, Mr. Wolfe, you're moving in the opposite direction." My fists were tight, nails biting into my palms. "You're reacting as though you can't be reasoned with!"

A slow smile lingered on his lips. "And yet, you're still here, challenging me. That means you think I can be reasoned with."

I parted my lips, ready to snap back, but then—I felt something shift in the way he looked at me, the pitch of voice he employed that was so low, so natural in its command. It was recognizable, so utterly recognizable. And in an instant, the notion flashed into my mind like a gust of frigid air.

No. It wasn’t possible. And yet—

For a second, I saw him again. Not as Damian Wolfe, interim crisis manager, but as the man from Paris. The man whose touch had burned into my skin. The man who had disappeared without a trace after one night that had haunted me ever since.

I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. No. This was ridiculous. Damian Wolfe wasn’t him. He couldn’t be.

“You’re quiet.” He observed. “Have you run out of things to say or rather, more insults to throw at me?” His head tilted slightly, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle.

I forced a breath. “I just don’t know how someone like you ended up here.”

“Interesting.” That smirk returned. “Someone like me?”

I straightened. “You act like you own the place. Like you don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. “Maybe because I don’t.”

God, he was infuriating. And yet, for all that I wished to focus on my rage, the nagging feeling wouldn't go away. My mind returned to the recollection—Paris, the dimmed lighting of that hotel suite, the way he had handled me as though he already knew every inch of me. The way he had looked at me before he left.

I shook my head. No. I was being ridiculous. Even though he never told me his real name back then despite me telling him mine, this man right here couldn’t be him.

Or perhaps, it could. Given that they were both arrogant sons of the devil.

“Tell me, Evelyn.” Damian spoke, his tone lowering just slightly. "Are you done ranting?"

I caught my breath at his voice, the feel of my name on his lips. Suddenly I connected two and two about the face from that unforgettable one-night stand I'd had a couple of years before, and I knew it. The realization sent a shock through me, and I struggled to keep my expression neutral. The beard from back then which was gone from his chin was the deceiving factor.

He didn’t look or act like he recognized me. Or at least, if he was, he was doing a good job of it. I took a step back, my heart pounding all of a sudden, wanting to create some distance between us. I had anger welling up inside me, compacting tightly like a fist as I remembered how he had vanished without explanation, leaving me with questions that weren't answered. And now, here he was in my world as if he had never been in my past.

And Mia had said he was a ghost. I nearly snorted at the thought.

“Is there anything else, Ms. Carter?” His fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk.

I straightened, clearing my throat. “No, but I suppose you’ll do whatever you want regardless.”

“That’s the most accurate thing you’ve said all day.” He leaned back, folding his arms.

Smug Bastard!

"You're not quite as untouchable as you believe, Mr. Wolfe, one way or another, I will find out what your motive is."

"We'll see about that while I carry on with my duties." He nodded as he chuckled.

Gritting my teeth in annoyance, I turned on my heel and went out before I could get fully lost in the past.