Chapter 4: The Perfect Lie
1487 Words
Lena’s POV
The next morning, I went to work like nothing had changed.
Except everything had.
My engagement ring sat on my finger, impossible to ignore.
Every time I reached for a file or picked up my coffee, the diamond caught my attention.
Five days.
That was how long I had before I became Damian Black’s wife.
I pushed the thought aside and focused on work.
I had contracts to review, emails to answer, and a meeting before noon.
Whatever happened outside the office, I was still a lawyer.
At exactly two o’clock, my phone buzzed.
Damian: Come to my office.
I stared at the message.
No greeting.
Of course.
I replied.
I’m working.
His response came almost immediately.
So am I.
I sighed and put my phone down.
Somehow, I had a feeling I was going to hate being married to this man.
When I arrived at Black Holdings, Damian was already waiting in his office.
He gestured toward the chair.
“Sit.”
“I’ve noticed you don’t ask.”
“You usually come anyway.”
I gave him a look before sitting.
He placed a folder in front of me.
“We need to establish the details of our relationship before the announcement goes out at six.”
I opened it.
There were dates, places and carefully written notes.
According to our story, we’d met several months ago through work.
We had started seeing each other privately and decided to keep the relationship away from the press.
I looked up.
“You’ve planned our entire relationship.”
“Our public relationship.”
“Right.”
He sat across from me.
“My family has been told we’re serious. They believe we’ve been together for months.”
“Marcus doesn’t seem very convinced.”
“Marcus doesn’t need to be convinced.”
I looked through the pages again.
“And if someone asks where we had our first date?”
“Le Bernardin.”
I frowned.
“Couldn’t we have met somewhere less obvious?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because people know how I live.”
I closed the folder.
“This is ridiculous.”
“This is necessary.”
He wasn’t wrong.
That was the annoying part.
I glanced at him.
“What else?”
“You’ll attend some business events with me. You’ll meet people who will expect you to know who I am and how we met.”
“I know who you are.”
“You know the business version.”
I smiled.
“There’s another version?”
His expression didn’t change.
“You’ll find out.”
Before I could respond, he asked, “What’s your dress size?”
I blinked.
“My what?”
“Dress size.”
“Why?”
“And your shoe size.”
I stared at him.
“Damian.”
“Answer the question.”
I crossed my arms.
“I have clothes.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Because we’re attending a private Black Holdings dinner tonight.”
“And?”
“You’ll be photographed.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“So?”
“So you’re going to look like my fiancée.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“You mean like a billionaire’s fiancée?”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
He said nothing.
I gave him my sizes.
He wrote them down without another word.
I stood.
“Anything else?”
“No.”
I picked up my bag.
“Good. I have work.”
“Lena.”
I stopped.
“Be ready by seven.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
I turned around.
“You’re going to have to get used to me not doing everything you say.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“I’ve noticed.”
When I got home that evening, I found three large boxes waiting outside my apartment.
I stared at them.
There was no need to ask who sent them.
I carried them inside and opened the first one.
A dress.
Black. Simple, elegant and obviously expensive.
The second box contained matching heels.
The third had a small clutch and jewelry.
I picked up my phone.
Me: These look very expensive.
His reply came almost instantly.
Damian: They are.
Me: I told you I had clothes.
Damian: I know.
Me: Then why did you send these?
There was a pause.
Damian: Because you’re going to be seen beside me.
I stared at the screen.
I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or impressed.
Probably both.
I put the phone down.
“Arrogant billionaire.”
Still, I wore the dress.
At seven thirty, Damian was waiting downstairs.
His eyes moved over me briefly when I approached.
“You’re late.”
“Seven thirty means seven thirty.”
“It means seven.”
“You said seven. I assumed you meant approximately seven.”
His jaw tightened.
“Get in.”
I smiled.
“Nice seeing you too.”
The drive was quiet.
When we arrived, cameras were already waiting outside.
My stomach tightened.
Damian looked at me.
“Stay beside me.”
“I can walk by myself.”
“I know.”
The door opened.
He stepped out first, then held out his hand.
I took it.
The flashes started immediately.
His hand settled at my waist as we walked inside.
I became suddenly aware of how close we were.
“Relax,” he murmured.
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re gripping my hand.”
I looked down.
I was.
I loosened my fingers.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
Inside, Damian introduced me to several business associates.
“This is Lena Carter.”
Then, every time,
“My fiancée.”
Hearing it in front of strangers felt different.
More real.
Then a man approached us.
Damian looked at him and smiled slightly.
“Nate.”
Nate shook his hand before looking at me.
“So you’re Lena.”
I smiled.
“Apparently.”
He laughed.
“I’ve been hearing about you.”
I glanced at Damian.
“Good things, I hope.”
“Mostly.”
Damian gave him a warning look.
Nate grinned.
“I’m kidding.”
Unlike Damian, Nate seemed easy to talk to.
He leaned closer.
“Don’t let him scare you. He’s been like this for years.”
“I believe you.”
Damian sighed.
“You two are getting along too quickly.”
“That’s because she’s normal,” Nate said.
I laughed.
For the first time that evening, Damian looked almost annoyed.
Then a photographer approached.
“Mr. Black, one picture with your fiancée?”
Damian looked at me.
I knew what I was supposed to do.
I stepped closer.
His hand returned to my waist.
The warmth of his palm sent an unexpected shiver through me.
I hated that I noticed.
“Smile,” he murmured.
“I am smiling.”
“Not like that.”
I looked up at him.
“What exactly is wrong with my smile?”
“Nothing.”
Our eyes met.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then the camera flashed.
Another.
And another.
I looked away first.
The photographer finally stepped back.
I lowered my hand, glad the pictures were finally over.
Before Damian could lead me away, a woman who had been standing nearby approached us.
“Miss Carter?”
I turned toward her.
“Yes?”
She smiled.
“I have to ask. How did you manage to get Damian Black to settle down?”
I blinked.
“I didn’t.”
She laughed.
“Come on. Everyone knows Damian doesn’t do relationships.”
I glanced at him.
He looked completely unimpressed.
“Apparently, he does now,” I said.
The woman smiled and looked between us.
“I suppose you must be very special.”
Before I could answer, Damian spoke.
“She is.”
I looked at him.
So did the woman.
For a second, even Damian seemed to realize what he’d said.
His expression didn’t change.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
He placed his hand lightly against my back and guided me away.
When we were far enough away, I looked at him.
“You didn’t have to say that.”
“It was easier than explaining.”
“Explaining what?”
“That you aren’t special.”
I stared at him.
“Wow.”
I shook my head and looked away.
This man was going to be exhausting.
But as we walked toward the exit, I couldn’t help thinking about what the woman had said.
Everyone knew Damian Black didn’t do relationships.
And now, in the space of a few days, I had gone from his lawyer to his fiancee.
Tomorrow, the whole city would know my name.
And in days, I would be his wife.
I just hoped I was ready for everything that came with it.
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