Not the Man You Think I Am

Chapter 3: All I could Think About Was Her

DAMON'S POV

Elias barged in just as Janet was about to take her leave.

“Boss, there’s a problem,” he said, and then turned to look at Janet. She seemed to understand the unspoken message. She quickly slid into her heels and left.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“The woman you’re meeting today—the one you asked me to look into a few days ago—comes from the third prominent family. Their firm is going bankrupt,” he said, pulling out some papers detailing suspicious transactions.

I stared at the documents with a cold gaze.

“Aren’t you surprised?” he inquired.

“Why would I be? I predicted this. The Ricci family wouldn’t have business with the Blackwoods unless they were going down,” I replied.

I already knew that the Ricci family wouldn’t agree unless they were desperate for the support they wanted, especially with the rumors spreading about me.

“Who would be willing to give their daughter to a gay man?”

“They are also in debt to the tune of $500 million,” he added.

“Interesting.”

“Are you still going to the dinner? After rejecting our collaboration proposal last year?”

“My parents need me there,” I said.

My dad was eager for a collaboration with them, not knowing they were on the verge of bankruptcy.

I walked over to the bar cart in the corner, poured three fingers of scotch into a glass, and gulped it down in one go, trying to distract myself from the ache in my chest.

“This won’t help. I know you’re not worried about the situation on the ground but about her. Why don’t you just tell her?” Elias said.

I poured another scotch and downed it again.

“Are you saying I should push her away?” I asked.

“No... I didn’t mean that, boss. But what if she loves you in return?”

“She doesn’t. If she did, she wouldn’t try to give me out to some dude.”

Elias stood there, staring at me. He seemed ready to leave. I stopped drinking.

“One more thing. Look into Janet’s parents’ deaths. Something feels off about it.”

“Yes, boss,” Elias replied before stepping out. I sighed.

Tonight, I had to sit across from my parents and a woman I had never met—Isabella Ricci, whose family was almost as powerful as my own. But also going bankrupt.

I glanced at his watch: 7:15 PM. The reservation was at 8:00. I walked back to the window, staring at my reflection, while adjusting my tie and his suit.

I looked at the sofa where Janet had been sitting once again before walking out of his office.

I arrive exactly at eight at the restaurant, 'L'Étoile Filante'. It's been my habit since birth. Punctuality is important, my father always said and it was the first sign of respect in my family.

I handed my coat to a woman who looked at me with pity and was led to the Sterling-Blackwood's preferred table—a secluded place that gives privacy and a vivid view of the other tables.

My parents were already there, seated opposite each other like monarchs holding court. Theodore Sterling-Blackwood, my dad wore a dark suit that probably cost more than my first car. His silver hair was perfectly styled, and his eyes were alarming.

My mom, Eleanor, sat across from him, she looked elegant in her pearl dress with flawless blonde hair. She looked at me, her eyes scanning my suit.

I had passed her inspection.

She smiled—a terrifying Smile that can attack you without thinking. She saw me approaching them and her smile sharpened.

"Damon," Dad said, his voice sounding like a command. He just gestured to the empty chair beside him. "You're on time." It's not a compliment, it's an acknowledgment of a time expectation.

"Dad. " Mom," I greeted. I leaned in to kiss my mother's cheek, but it felt more like kissing a marble statue. I could sense her disapproval.

"Damon, darling," she said, patting my hand with hers. "You look tired. You're working too hard."

"The market waits for no one," Dad interrupted.

Before I could reply, a waiter came up to my father's elbow. "Mr. Sterling-Blackwood. Ms. Ricci has just arrived."

My mom's smile brightened, a predatory smile. "Excellent. Show her in."

"You better not mess things up, and cooperate," Dad whispered.

I braced myself, clenching my hand into fists under the table. I wasn't prepared for a sudden marriage with someone I barely knew.

She walks up to our table.

My Dad stood—the highest sign of respect he was capable of showing—as she approached the table.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sterling-Blackwood," Isabella said. She shook my father's hand, then my mother's. "A pleasure to see you both."

"I'm sorry, my parents are too busy to come, they are handling a project overseas. Besides, you called first, Mr. Sterling, and my parents weren't prepared for it so I had to come alone." She said.

"I'm sorry if it seems too urgent," Dad said.

"It's nothing."

Then, she looks at me. I stood and shook her hand also. "Isabella," I said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you too, Damon Sterling-Blackwood."

She stared at me, like she was sizing me up.

"I've heard a great deal about you," she said. “That means you are not that bad to be my husband.