The CEO'S Unwanted Bride

Chapter Four: The Move

Amara stood in the middle of her apartment, staring at the two suitcases lying open on her bed.

She had been packing for almost an hour.

Somehow, she had managed to put half her wardrobe into one suitcase and still had no idea what she was supposed to take with her.

Six months.

She kept repeating those words in her head.

Six months, then it would be over.

She folded another dress and placed it carefully inside the suitcase.

Her eyes landed on the contract sitting on her table.

Her signature was still fresh in her mind.

She had actually done it.

She was going to marry Damien Blackwood.

Not because she loved him.

Not because she wanted him.

Because she needed to save her mother.

That was the only reason.

At least, it had to remain that way.

Her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen.

Tessa.

Amara answered.

"Hello?"

"Have you packed?"

"Almost."

"Almost?"

"I've been packing for an hour."

"And?"

Amara looked around the room.

"I've packed two dresses."

Tessa laughed.

"Amara."

"What?"

"You are moving into a mansion, not going on a camping trip."

"I know."

"Then stop acting like you're relocating to another country."

Amara sighed.

"It's strange."

"What is?"

"Leaving my apartment."

Tessa's voice softened.

"You'll be back in six months."

"I know."

"Then think of it as temporary."

Amara looked at the contract.

"That's what I'm trying to do."

There was a short silence.

Then Tessa asked, "Are you sure about this?"

Amara's smile disappeared.

"No."

"Amara."

"I'm sure about why I'm doing it."

"That's not the same thing."

"I know."

Tessa sighed.

"Just be careful."

"I will."

"And don't let him pressure you into anything you don't want."

"I won't."

"Good."

Amara smiled faintly.

"I'll call you when I get there."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The call ended.

Amara placed her phone on the bed.

She looked around her apartment one last time.

This place had not been much.

The walls were old.

The furniture was mismatched.

The kitchen was tiny.

But it was hers.

She had cried here.

Laughed here.

Prayed here.

Dreamed here.

And now she was leaving it behind.

She zipped the suitcase.

Then she whispered,

"Six months."

---

A black car was waiting outside her apartment the next morning.

Amara stopped when she saw it.

The driver stepped out.

"Miss Amara?"

"Yes."

"I'm here to help with your luggage."

She looked at the car.

Then at the driver.

"Mr. Blackwood sent you?"

"Yes."

Of course he did.

Amara glanced at her two suitcases.

She suddenly felt embarrassed.

"That's everything."

The driver looked at the bags.

"I'll take them."

He lifted both with ease.

Amara followed him to the car.

Before getting inside, she looked back at her apartment.

She felt a strange heaviness in her chest.

Then she turned away.

She was not going to cry.

Not today.

---

The journey to Damien's house was quiet.

Amara sat by the window, watching familiar streets disappear behind her.

She had expected to feel nervous.

Instead, she felt strangely numb.

Maybe her mind had not fully accepted what was happening.

When the car finally stopped, she looked up.

The Blackwood residence stood before her.

It was even more intimidating than she remembered.

The gates opened automatically.

The car drove through.

Amara stared out of the window.

She had never seen anything like it.

The gardens were enormous.

A fountain stood in the middle of the circular driveway.

The house itself looked like something from a magazine.

She suddenly looked down at her simple clothes.

She felt completely out of place.

The driver opened the door.

"Miss Amara."

She stepped out.

A woman was waiting near the entrance.

"Welcome."

"Thank you."

"My name is Mrs. Rose. I manage the household."

Amara smiled politely.

"It's nice to meet you."

"Mr. Blackwood asked me to show you to your room."

"My room?"

Mrs. Rose smiled.

"Of course."

Amara followed her inside.

The house was even more beautiful from within.

Everything was spotless.

Elegant.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

They climbed the stairs.

Mrs. Rose stopped in front of a large bedroom.

"This is yours."

Amara stepped inside.

Her mouth fell open.

The room was larger than her entire apartment.

There was a king sized bed, a private sitting area, a dressing room and enormous windows overlooking the gardens.

She turned to Mrs. Rose.

"This is my room?"

"Yes."

"But..."

Mrs. Rose smiled.

"Mr. Blackwood wanted you to have everything you need."

Amara looked around again.

"I don't need all this."

"Perhaps not."

Mrs. Rose picked up her suitcase.

"But you are his wife now."

Amara froze.

The words sounded strange.

His wife.

She was not used to hearing them.

Mrs. Rose seemed to notice her expression.

"Forgive me."

"It's fine."

Mrs. Rose left.

Amara walked toward the window.

She stared at the gardens.

Everything was beautiful.

Perfect.

Yet she felt uneasy.

There was something about the house that made her feel like she had stepped into someone else's life.

She turned around.

A voice came from the doorway.

"You don't like it."

Amara jumped.

Damien stood there.

She placed a hand against her chest.

"You scared me."

"I knocked."

"I didn't hear you."

He stepped into the room.

His eyes moved briefly around the room before returning to her.

"Is everything satisfactory?"

"Yes."

"You need anything?"

"No."

He nodded.

"Good."

Amara looked at him.

"Do you always speak this little?"

His eyebrow lifted.

"Do you always ask this many questions?"

She almost smiled.

"Maybe."

A brief silence followed.

Then Damien handed her a small envelope.

"What is this?"

"Your allowance."

She stared at him.

"My what?"

"Your personal expenses."

"I don't need an allowance."

"It's part of the agreement."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know."

"Then why?"

"Because people will expect you to live like my wife."

Amara looked at the envelope.

She hated that he was right.

She opened it.

Her eyes widened.

"This is too much."

"It's appropriate."

"For what?"

"Whatever you need."

She looked up at him.

"Do you give every woman this much money?"

"No."

"Then why me?"

Damien stared at her for a moment.

"Because you're my wife."

There was something about the way he said it that made her uncomfortable.

Not because she disliked the words.

Because for one strange second, they sounded real.

She looked away.

"I'll try not to spend it."

"Spend it."

He turned toward the door.

"Wait."

He stopped.

"Where are you going?"

"To work."

"So you're leaving me here alone?"

His expression changed slightly.

"You expected me to stay?"

"No."

"Then why ask?"

"I don't know."

He looked at her for a moment.

"You'll get used to it."

"To what?"

"Being here."

Then he walked away.

Amara stared after him.

"Unbelievable."

---

That evening, Amara sat alone at the enormous dining table.

She looked at the empty seat across from her.

The food in front of her was untouched.

She had expected Damien to come home.

But it was already past eight.

She checked the time again.

Eight twenty three.

She sighed.

"This is ridiculous."

She picked up her fork.

Then she heard footsteps.

She looked up.

Damien walked into the dining room.

His suit jacket was gone, leaving him in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

Amara quickly looked away.

She had no reason to notice his appearance.

None.

"You're still eating?"

"I was waiting."

"For me?"

She shrugged.

"We're married now."

Something flashed across his face.

"Right."

He sat across from her.

A servant immediately approached.

"Would you like dinner, sir?"

"No."

The servant left.

Amara stared at him.

"You haven't eaten?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Work."

"You should eat."

He looked at her.

"Are you concerned?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"Because you're human."

He almost smiled.

Almost.

Amara picked up her fork.

"How long have you been working today?"

"Since six."

"In the morning?"

"Yes."

She shook her head.

"That's unhealthy."

"You sound like my mother."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Silence settled between them.

For the first time since she arrived, the atmosphere did not feel quite as uncomfortable.

Until Damien spoke.

"There is something you need to know."

Amara looked up.

"What?"

"My family is coming tomorrow."

Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

"Your family?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They want to meet my wife."

Amara swallowed.

"You didn't tell me."

"You just arrived."

"Exactly."

Damien looked at her calmly.

"They don't know about the contract."

Her eyes widened.

"So I have to pretend?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"The entire weekend."

Amara stared at him.

"You said public appearances."

"My family isn't the public."

She dropped her fork.

"Damien."

"What?"

"I've never met these people."

"You'll meet them tomorrow."

"And what am I supposed to say?"

"The truth."

She stared at him.

"The truth?"

"You're my wife."

"That's not the truth."

"It is legally."

Amara shook her head.

"This is going to be a disaster."

Damien leaned back in his chair.

"Probably."

She looked at him.

He looked completely calm.

Amara suddenly realized something.

She had spent all day worrying about moving into his house.

She had forgotten the most important part.

She was not just moving into Damien Blackwood's home.

She was stepping into his world.

And tomorrow, she would have to convince the people closest to him that she belonged there.