Married To My High School Bully

Chapter 5

I barely slept that night.

By the time morning arrived, I felt as though I had spent the entire night fighting a battle inside my own head. My mother had been impossibly excited when we got home, talking about wedding colors, guest lists, dresses, flowers, and a dozen other things I couldn’t bring myself to care about.

My father, thankfully, had been more understanding.

Before going to bed, he had quietly told me that I didn’t have to do this if I didn’t want to. He said we would find another solution, even if that meant accepting the consequences, and for the first time since this whole arrangement had begun, I felt like I still had a choice.

Unfortunately, having a choice didn’t make the decision any easier.

I had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, wondering how life had managed to become so unfair. Of all the people in the world, why did the man my family needed me to marry have to be him?

My phone began vibrating on the bedside table.

I reached for it without much interest and saw a message from Damien.

Tonight, we’re going to impress a room full of old men in expensive suits. Be ready by six. Don’t be late.

I stared at the message for a moment.

I tossed the phone aside before picking it up again as curiosity got the better of me.

If I was going to spend a year pretending to be this man’s wife, I figured I should at least know what kind of family I was marrying into. I opened my laptop and started searching for the Kingsley family.

I knew of them, obviously. Almost everyone did.

My mother had been friends with Mrs. Kingsley for years, and I had met her a few times when I was younger, but I had never cared enough about the corporate world to pay attention to their business empire.

Article after article appeared on the screen.

Mr Kingsley Sr. was everywhere. His face appeared in interviews, business magazines, newspaper articles, and photographs beside politicians and other powerful businessmen. His company was one of the largest privately owned corporations in the country, and the family’s influence extended far beyond business.

Then I came across several articles about Damien. He was described as ambitious, private, ruthless in negotiations, and possibly one of the youngest men expected to take control of such a massive company.

One article caught my attention.

A popular supermodel had supposedly been seen leaving a private event with him, and the media had immediately begun speculating about a relationship between them.

I rolled my eyes. So my future husband had already been linked to a supermodel.

Wonderful.

I continued scrolling until another headline stopped me.

Rachel Kingsley, Eldest Daughter of Business Magnate Damien Kingsley, Dies After Brief Illness.

My smile disappeared.

I clicked the article.

Rachel had apparently been the family’s first daughter. According to the report, she had died after a short illness, and her death had devastated the Kingsley family, particularly her younger brother.

Damien.

I read the article twice.

Then a strange thought crossed my mind.

Maybe that was why Mrs. Kingsley had spoken about him so sadly the previous evening. Maybe Rachel’s death was the reason Damien had become so distant and obsessed with work.

I closed the laptop and for some reason, I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

I climbed out of bed and made my way toward the living room, still wearing my pajamas. I had barely reached the kitchen area when I found my mother standing there with a dress hanging from her hands.

The dress was emerald green, elegant, expensive, and completely unnecessary.

She held it up with a grin. “Abby sent this for you. Apparently, her makeup artist is coming later today, so you can be properly prepared for tonight.”

I stared at the dress. Then at my mother.

“Abby?”

“Mrs. Kingsley.”

“Of course.”

My mother looked delighted.

I took the dress from her and examined it. “You two really are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What’s not to enjoy?” she asked, looking almost offended.

I gave her a flat stare. “Apparently, I’m living every woman’s dream. I’m marrying a man I don’t love, pretending our relationship is real, and attending business functions so wealthy people can admire how well I photograph.”

She frowned.

“You could at least pretend to be excited.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled,” I said, forcing a smile. “This is everything I ever dreamed of. Pure happiness. Heavenly bliss.”

My mother rolled her eyes and walked away with a dramatic huff.

“You’re impossible.”

I watched her disappear before looking down at the dress again.

By five forty-five that evening, I barely recognized myself.

Mrs. Kingsley’s makeup artist had spent nearly two hours transforming me. My hair had been styled into soft waves, my makeup was elegant without being too heavy, and the emerald dress fit perfectly against my body.

When she finished, she took several photographs and sent them directly to Mrs. Kingsley.

My phone started ringing almost immediately.

I didn’t even have to answer to know who it was.

My mother was already laughing when I walked into the living room. She and Mrs. Kingsley were talking so loudly that I could hear them from the hallway, both of them sounding like excited teenagers planning their first dance.

I shook my head.

This was my life now.

At exactly six, a BMW arrived outside.

I stared at it through the window for a few seconds before reluctantly picking up my purse and stepped into the back seat. The driver greeted me politely before pulling away. I spent the entire journey staring through the window.

The driver didn’t attempt to make conversation, which I appreciated. My nerves were already stretched thin.

When we finally stopped, I looked up and immediately recognized the hotel. It was one of the most expensive hotels in the city, the kind of place where ordinary people like me didn’t simply walk in unless we had a very good reason.

I stepped out of the car and then I saw him.

Damien stood near the entrance, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that made him look as though he belonged on the cover of some ridiculous billionaire magazine. His posture was relaxed, his expression unreadable, and for a brief moment, I hated how effortlessly handsome he looked.

He noticed me. His gaze traveled over me slowly before settling on my face.

I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, but he reached into his pocket instead. Before I could ask what he was doing, he took my hand then something cold and hard touched my finger.

I looked down and a diamond ring was already sitting pretty on my hand.

I stared at it in disbelief before slowly lifting my eyes to his.

Damien gave me a faint smile.

“Smile, wife.”