The Proxy's Possession

The Proxy's Possession Chapter 3. by Harrdy😘❤️

I woke to warmth.

For one disorienting moment, I forgot where I was. The mattress beneath me was impossibly soft, the air cool against my skin, and the steady weight wrapped around my waist felt strangely comforting.

Then memory crashed over me.

The wedding.

The vows.

Damien.

My eyes flew open.

Morning light poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse bedroom, painting the black silk sheets in pale gold. The city skyline stretched endlessly beyond the glass, glittering beneath the early dawn haze.

And Damien Voss was still holding me.

One powerful arm was draped possessively across my waist, anchoring me against his bare chest. His body radiated heat through the thin fabric of my nightdress. I could hear the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing against my ear.

Sleeping, he looked different.

Softer.

Less like the ruthless billionaire feared across the country and more like an exhausted man carrying invisible battles beneath his skin. Dark lashes rested against sharp cheekbones, and the hard line of his mouth had relaxed slightly in sleep.

Dangerously handsome.

My pulse betrayed me with an unnecessary flutter.

Carefully, I tried to slide away from him.

His grip tightened instantly.

“Trying to escape already, little wife?”

My breath caught. His voice was rough with sleep, low and dark enough to send heat crawling down my spine.

“I wasn’t escaping,” I lied quickly.

One gray eye opened lazily. “Liar.”

Before I could react, Damien rolled smoothly onto his back, dragging me with him until I was sprawled half across his chest. A startled sound escaped my throat.

“Damien—”

“Relax.” His large hand settled against my lower back. “You’re too tense this early in the morning.”

Easy for him to say.

I became painfully aware of every inch of contact between us — the hard planes of his chest beneath my palms, the warmth of his skin, the way his fingers lazily traced circles against my back like he already owned the right.

Which, legally, he did.

The realization made my stomach twist.

“I should go,” I whispered.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Go where?”

“To my parents. To the hospital. My father—”

“He’s being transferred to St. Laurent Medical Center this morning.”

I froze. “What?”

Damien reached for his phone on the nightstand and casually checked the screen. “Private cardiac wing. Best specialists in the country.” He set the phone down again. “Your father’s treatment has already been paid in full.”

Shock slammed into me so hard I could barely breathe.

“You… paid it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His gaze settled on my face, calm and unreadable. “Because my wife was crying in a cathedral over medical bills.”

Emotion clogged my throat unexpectedly.

Nobody had ever solved problems for me before. My entire life had been about surviving quietly, fixing things silently, asking for nothing.

But Damien said it like it was obvious.

Like my problems were now his.

“I can pay you back,” I said weakly.

A dark, amused smile touched his mouth. “With what?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant, Isabella.” His fingers tilted my chin upward gently. “But let’s make one thing clear.” His expression hardened slightly. “You belong to me now. Your family’s debts, your father’s treatment, your safety — all of it falls under my responsibility.”

The possessiveness in his voice should have terrified me.

Instead, something dangerous unfurled warm and aching in my chest.

I looked away first.

A knock sounded at the bedroom door.

Damien’s expression instantly cooled into something sharp and controlled. “Enter.”

A middle-aged woman stepped inside wearing an elegant black uniform. “Good morning, Mr. Voss.” Her eyes shifted toward me with polite curiosity. “Mrs. Voss.”

The title hit me like a slap.

Mrs. Voss.

Real.

Permanent.

“My house manager, Clara,” Damien said smoothly. “She’ll help you settle in.”

Clara offered me a small, kind smile. “Breakfast is prepared downstairs whenever you’re ready, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” I murmured awkwardly.

After she left, silence settled over the room again.

Damien sat up slowly, muscles shifting beneath bronzed skin. Scars traced faint lines across his shoulder and ribs — old, pale marks that looked deeply out of place on a billionaire.

My eyes lingered before I could stop myself.

His gaze caught mine immediately.

“Curious?”

I swallowed. “You have scars.”

“So do you.”

The quiet answer startled me.

Before I could respond, he reached for my wrist gently and turned my arm over. His thumb brushed the faint yellowing bruise near my elbow — the one my aunt had left gripping me too hard.

My breath caught.

His expression changed instantly.

The air in the room turned colder.

“Who did this?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Isabella.”

The softness vanished from his voice completely.

I hesitated too long.

His jaw tightened. “Your aunt.”

I stayed silent.

That was enough.

A dangerous stillness settled over him — calm in the worst possible way.

“Damien,” I said carefully, “please don’t do anything.”

His eyes lifted to mine slowly. “You think I would allow someone to put their hands on my wife?”

The words sent a strange shiver through me.

Not because of the threat.

Because he sounded genuinely offended by the idea.

“She was desperate,” I whispered. “Everyone was.”

“That doesn’t excuse it.”

He stood from the bed in one smooth movement, towering over me. The intimidating power of him returned instantly now that he was fully awake.

“I’m taking you to see your father today,” he said. “After that, there’s a board dinner tonight.”

My stomach dropped. “A dinner?”

“Yes.” His tone turned clipped and businesslike. “The board members and shareholders will expect to meet my wife properly.”

Panic bubbled inside me again. “Damien, I can’t do that. Someone will realize I’m not Elena.”

“No one will challenge me publicly.”

“That’s not the point—”

“It’s exactly the point.” He stepped closer until I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “Listen carefully, Isabella. The moment I accepted you at that altar, this stopped being your burden alone.”

His fingers brushed lightly against my jaw.

“I will handle the consequences.”

The certainty in his voice was terrifyingly absolute.

Before I could answer, he walked toward the bathroom, pausing at the doorway.

“And wear something beautiful tonight,” he added without looking back. “I enjoy watching people realize you belong to me.”

The bathroom door shut behind him.

I stared after him in stunned silence.

This man was impossible.

Cold one second. Protective the next. Ruthless. Possessive. Strangely gentle in moments that caught me completely off guard.

And worst of all—

a small, traitorous part of me was beginning to feel safe beside him.

---

An hour later, I stood in the massive walk-in closet wearing a cream-colored dress Clara had selected for me. The closet alone was larger than my childhood bedroom.

Rows of designer dresses lined the walls.

Shoes arranged perfectly.

Jewelry glittering beneath soft lighting.

It didn’t feel real.

“Mr. Voss personally approved everything,” Clara said as she adjusted one of my earrings.

I blinked. “He did?”

“Yes.” Her lips curved faintly. “He’s… very attentive when something matters to him.”

Something about the way she said it made my heartbeat stumble.

Before I could ask more, Damien appeared in the doorway dressed in a charcoal suit that looked painfully expensive. His gaze swept over me slowly.

The intensity of it made my skin heat.

“Beautiful,” he said simply.

No hesitation.

No performance.

Just certainty.

My breath caught embarrassingly fast.

“Thank you,” I managed softly.

He crossed the room toward me, adjusting the cuff of his watch. “Ready?”

Not even slightly.

But I nodded anyway.

The ride to the hospital was quieter than the previous night. Damien worked from his phone most of the drive, issuing calm, precise instructions that moved millions of dollars with a few words.

Power clung to him effortlessly.

When we arrived at St. Laurent Medical Center, nurses immediately rushed to greet him.

“Mr. Voss.”

“Sir.”

Their eyes widened slightly when they saw me beside him.

Damien’s hand settled at my lower back possessively. “Take us to Richard Hayes.”

Hearing my father’s name spoken so easily by a man like Damien felt surreal.

We entered the private cardiac suite moments later.

My father looked pale against the white hospital sheets, but for the first time in months, he didn’t look exhausted by pain. Machines beeped steadily beside him.

His eyes widened when he saw me.

Then widened further when he noticed Damien.

“Bella?” His voice was weak. “What’s going on?”

Emotion hit me so hard I nearly broke.

I rushed forward, taking his hand carefully. “Dad…”

My wedding ring caught the light.

His gaze locked onto it immediately.

Confusion crossed his face.

Then shock.

“Oh my God.”

Damien stepped forward calmly beside me. “Mr. Hayes,” he said evenly, “I’m Damien Voss. Your daughter is now my wife.”

The room fell completely silent.

My father stared at us both in disbelief.

Then his eyes slowly returned to me.

“Bella,” he whispered carefully, “what have you done?”

Tears burned the back of my eyes.

Because I honestly didn’t know anymore.

Had I ruined my life?

Or had I accidentally stepped into something that was about to change everything forever?