Married To My High School Bully

Chapter 6

I stared down at my hand, utterly speechless, at the enormous stone Damien Kingsley Junior had just slipped onto my finger without warning.

There had been no question, no proposal, no attempt to ask whether I was ready for this circus. Apparently, when you are Damien Kingsley Junior, heir to a multimillion-dollar empire and the family’s golden boy, you don’t need permission. You simply decided what was happening and expected everyone else to fall in line.

I slowly raised my hand, examining the ridiculous piece of jewelry sparkling beneath the lights. Then I looked at him, my expression twisting into disbelief.

“Well, isn’t this so romantic?” I muttered, sarcasm practically dripping from every word.

Damien’s mouth curved into an amused smile. When I immediately pulled my hand away from him, he glanced at me as though I had just rejected some grand romantic gesture instead of an unsolicited piece of jewelry.

“Would you prefer that I get down on one knee?” he asked, clearly enjoying my irritation, before lowering his voice. “The performance has already started, sweetheart, so you’d better give them a convincing show.”

I shot him a murderous glare. “Don’t call me sweetheart. I’m not your sweetheart, your darling, your princess, or anything else you have decided to call me in that arrogant head of yours.” I tucked my hand against my chest and added, “And for the record, I’m certainly not yours.”

His amusement only grew.

“You look beautiful tonight, though, so try smiling like you’re completely in love with me,” he murmured. Before I could come up with an appropriately insulting response, he placed a hand lightly at my back and guided me toward the entrance. “Unless, of course, you want everyone inside to start wondering why my fiancée looks like she’s being escorted to her execution.”

I forced my face into what I hoped resembled a smile. I hated him already.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. I hated the situation.

The problem was that whenever I looked at him, something much more complicated stirred beneath the anger. There were memories I didn’t want, feelings I had buried, and questions I had spent years refusing to ask myself. Standing beside him again made it painfully obvious that the past had never really stayed where I left it.

The doors opened into a grand reception hall filled with different people. Men in tailored suits stood in small groups, holding expensive drinks and discussing business in low voices, while women dressed in designer gowns moved effortlessly between them.

Damien seemed completely at ease.

One after another, he introduced me as his fiancée, and each introduction was followed by congratulations, handshakes, compliments, and knowing smiles. I stood beside him through all of it, smiling until my cheeks hurt and wondering whether anyone would notice if I quietly disappeared into one of the bathrooms and climbed out through a window.

An older gentleman with a completely bald head and a round stomach eventually approached us with a glass in his hand. His eyes moved from Damien to me, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face.

“So this is the woman who finally managed to trap our elusive bachelor,” he said, chuckling. “We’ve been waiting years for the day someone would finally get him to settle down. Tell me, Miss Williams, what exactly did you do to accomplish what the rest of us couldn’t?”

I smiled brightly.

“Oh, we’ve actually known each other for years,” I replied, giving Damien a look from the corner of my eye. “We were teenage sweethearts, although apparently he needed several years to gather enough courage to make things official.” I lifted my hand, deliberately displaying the ring. “Then, just recently, he appeared out of nowhere, put this enormous rock on my finger, and decided I was his fiancée.”

The man burst into laughter.

I sweetened my smile even further. “So now I’m here, doing my best to make him slightly less unbearable.”

Damien nearly choked on his drink.

The older man laughed even harder while several others nearby turned toward us, clearly amused by whatever they had just overheard. One of them slapped Damien on the shoulder and said, “You’ve certainly chosen a woman with a sharp tongue. Good luck, my boy. You’re going to need it.”

Damien cleared his throat and recovered his composure, but the look he gave me promised revenge.

I smiled innocently.

For the next hour, I was paraded around like a new acquisition.

Damien introduced me to businessmen, politicians, investors, lawyers, and people whose names I recognized from newspapers and television. The deeper I listened to their conversations, the more I realized just how powerful the Kingsley family actually was. Their influence stretched into industries I hadn’t even considered, and their connections reached far beyond business. Politics, finance, construction, entertainment, hospitality, media, and banking all seemed to have someone in that room who owed a Kingsley a favor.

I stood there holding my champagne and wondered how I had somehow gone from being an ordinary woman trying to keep her family’s company alive to becoming the future wife of one of the most powerful men in the country.

Nobody asked what I wanted.

Nobody seemed particularly interested.

They simply smiled at me, congratulated me, and moved on.

By the time dinner was announced, I was exhausted from pretending to be delighted.

Music began playing softly in the background as everyone settled into another round of conversations. I took a generous sip of wine, then another, deciding that if I couldn’t escape the situation physically, I could at least escape it mentally. By my third glass, I was beginning to feel considerably more tolerant of the absurdity surrounding me.

I reached for another glass when a hand suddenly closed around mine.

I looked down. Then up.

Damien.

“Come with me.”

He didn’t wait for an answer before pulling me toward the dance floor.

I dug my heels into the floor as much as I could without causing a scene. “Do you ever ask before touching someone?” I hissed, keeping my smile in place for the benefit of the people watching us.

He glanced down at me, completely unfazed. “Not tonight. We’re engaged, remember? We have to look convincing.”

“That doesn’t give you permission to drag me around like luggage.”

“Complain later.”

“I’m complaining now.”

His lips twitched.

Then he pulled me closer.

My body stiffened instantly.

His hand settled around my waist, and every muscle in my body seemed to become painfully aware of the contact. I could smell his cologne, feel the warmth of him through the fabric between us, and suddenly the room felt too small.

Memories came rushing back. I swallowed hard. I had already been dealing with strange flashes of the past since the night before, but this was worse. Being this close to him was dragging memories out of places I had spent years trying to bury.

“I don’t dance,” I whispered.

“Relax,” he murmured. “Just follow me.”

To my absolute annoyance, we actually moved well together. From the outside, we probably looked like a perfectly ordinary couple enjoying their engagement party. Anyone watching us would have assumed we were happy, comfortable, and completely in love.

Nobody would have guessed that I was fighting the urge to run. Nobody except Damien.

He studied my face for a few seconds before leaning closer.

“You keep looking at me as if I’m a serial killer.”

I stiffened, stopping so abruptly that my heel landed directly on his foot. He winced then took my hand and guided me away from the dance floor before anyone could notice the murderous look passing between us.

“I swear you enjoy making my life difficult,” he muttered.

“You have absolutely no idea.”

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne, and I immediately took another glass.