Not the Man You Think I Am

Chapter 4: An Agreement I Couldn't Refuse

DAMON’S POV

It was a bloodless dinner as I had predicted. The conversation was more like a speech.

We spoke of my company's recent acquisitions and her family's expansion into Asian markets.

My Dad used the word 'synergy' four times. My Mom spoke about a recent charity gala, explaining the importance of a "unified public front for prominent families."

Isabella skillfully dodged many of my dad's probing questions as they negotiated assets, while my mind drifted elsewhere.

With every mention of "alliances" and "legacy," all I could think about was Janet's face. I didn't know why, but all I wanted was her—the way she smiled, the silly jokes she made. I wanted her in my zone, all of her, just for me… alone.

Not this.

The dinner quickly grew cold. I felt like I was staring at a dull movie.

"The press has been so nosy lately," my mom said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. She glanced from me to Isabella. "It's vital to present a story they can understand—a story of stability. Of tradition."

I felt Isabella's gaze on me, and when I looked back at her, I saw a mocking glint in her eyes. The message was clear: The Handsome CEO of the Sterling-Blackwood Empire is gay. I know this is a mockery. I'll just get through it.

At that moment, I felt a vibration in my pocket. My phone buzzed. Under the table, I pulled it out to see a text from Janet.

Janet: Survived yet? Or have they waterboarded you with consommé?

Followed by a ridiculous GIF of a cat falling off a chair.

Just seeing that message eased my mind a little.

"Damon?" my dad's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Isabella was just remarking on the Sterling-Blackwood Foundation's work in arts funding."

I shoved the phone back into my pocket. "Ah, yes," I said. "The arts? It's Important."

Isabella stared at me, knowing my mind was elsewhere.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur of clattering utensils and empty words. Finally, my father pushed his dessert plate away, signaling that the business meeting was about to be over.

"Isabella," he said, smiling at her, "we believe a union between our families would be… synergistic. We plan to announce it by the end of the fourth quarter. A spring wedding would be ideal for the press cycle."

Isabella remained unfazed. "That's an aggressive timeline, Mr. Theodore," she said, "but not impossible." She then looked at me with a challenging gaze.

"Assuming all parties are in agreement?"

All eyes turned to me— waiting for my response and any protest here would be another problem. I felt like a puppet, completely in their grasp.

"Of course," I said. "It seems… logical."

The silence broke. My mother beamed; my father nodded. The deal was sealed, and I shook hands with Isabella again.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Damon," she said, leaning in to whisper in my ear, "who would believe the richest CEO is gay?"

With that, she was gone, leaving me alone with my parents.

"She's perfect," my mother said. "Utterly perfect."

"She is," my father added, snorting—his highest form of praise. He looked at me. "Don't mess this up, Damon. We're doing this for you."

For me? Or for the empire's image?

I exited the restaurant, feeling the cool night air. My tie felt like a noose around my neck. I pulled out my phone and glanced at Janet's text again.

My fingers trembled as I typed a reply. I started to write, "You have no idea." I deleted it. I typed, "This is a nightmare," and deleted that as well. In the end, I sent the only thing I could.

Me: Survived. Just about.

I hit send and stared at the screen, at the lie I just typed.

Just as I got into my car, my phone started ringing.