Episode six
1087 Words
The night ended in a blur of smiles and handshakes, and as Sienna and Damien left the estate, the press surrounded them. Cameras flashed in their faces, asking questions he couldn’t care less about. He kept his arm around her, guiding her through the chaos.
“This is just the beginning,” Damien murmured as they climbed into the car.
Sienna looked at him, the weight of the evening settling in. “I never thought I’d be in the middle of this.”
He gave her a wry smile. “Welcome to the Sinclair world.”
And as the car pulled away, Sienna couldn’t help but wonder—what had she really signed up for?
The flashing lights from the paparazzi still danced behind my eyelids as I sat in Damien’s car, gripping the edge of my dress. The night had been a blur—his grandmother’s warm embrace, the talk of wedding preparations, the overwhelming reality of what I had signed up for.
I exhaled slowly, turning to Damien, who sat beside me, perfectly composed as always.
“So,” I started, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me, “your grandmother has no idea that this marriage is a contract?”
His gaze flickered to me, unreadable as ever. “No. And she never will.”
I swallowed, processing his words. “She’s planning this wedding like it’s real.”
“That’s the point,” he said simply, loosening his tie. “She believes it’s real. And as far as the world is concerned, it is.”
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”
Damien’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was something else in his expression—something unreadable. “I don’t leave room for mistakes, Sienna.”
I turned away, watching the city lights blur past the window. No mistakes. That was Damien Sinclair’s motto. But something told me that pretending to be his wife would be the one thing he couldn’t control.
The next morning, Damien walked into the grand dining hall of his penthouse, finding Sienna already seated at the long marble table, sipping coffee. She looked up as he entered, her expression guarded.
“We need to talk about the next steps,” he said, pouring himself a cup of black coffee.
She leaned back in her chair. “Oh? There’s more?”
“We have a public image to maintain,” he reminded her, taking a seat across from her. “That means appearing together at events, giving interviews, and
“Pretending to be madly in love,” she finished, arching an eyebrow. “Sounds exhausting.”
“It’s necessary.” He sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim of his cup. “Starting tonight. There’s a charity gala. We’ll attend as a couple.”
Sienna sighed, setting her mug down. “Of course there is.”
“You’ll need a dress. I’ve arranged for a stylist to bring options this afternoon.”
She shook her head with a soft laugh. “You think of everything, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
By the time the stylist arrived with a collection of designer gowns, I had accepted that my life was no longer mine. I stood in front of the mirror as a team of professionals fussed over me, adjusting fabric, pinning folds, and making sure I looked every bit the perfect fiancée of Damien Sinclair.
I barely recognized myself in the reflection. The dress was a deep crimson, hugging my curves, with delicate silver embroidery along the hem. My hair was styled in soft waves, my makeup flawless.
“Perfect,” the stylist declared.
I wasn’t so sure.
Later that evening, Damien and I stood outside the grand ballroom, the murmur of high society humming from within.
“Ready?” he asked, adjusting his cufflinks.
I exhaled. “Do I have a choice?”
He smirked, offering me his arm. “Not really.”
And with that, we stepped inside, into the blinding lights of the elite. Into the performance of a lifetime.
The moment we stepped into the ballroom, all eyes turned to us. The grand chandelier overhead bathed the space in a golden glow, reflecting off the champagne glasses and glittering gowns. The scent of roses and expensive perfume filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of conversation.
I felt Damien’s hand press against the small of my back, a silent reminder that we were here together—as a couple. My heart pounded, but I forced a smile, tilting my head slightly toward him as if we were sharing a secret.
“You’re handling this well,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
I let out a soft laugh, pretending to be amused. “I should win an award for this performance.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Just keep it up. My grandmother is watching.”
I glanced across the room and spotted Elyano Sinclair standing near the bar, a proud smile on her lips as she observed us. Her presence made me feel guilty in a way I hadn’t expected. She had no idea this was all an illusion.
“Damien, Sienna!” A voice called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.
We turned to see a tall man approaching, his sharp navy suit tailored to perfection. His eyes flickered with amusement as he studied us.
“Christopher,” Damien greeted, his tone neutral.
Christopher. The name clicked in my mind. Christopher Vale—one of Damien’s closest business rivals. I had heard his name in passing, but now, standing before him, I could see the unspoken tension between the two men.
I must say, I was surprised when I heard the news,” Christopher said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “You, settling down? Never thought I’d see the day.”
Damien’s grip on my waist tightened slightly. “People change.”
Christopher’s gaze flickered to me. “And you must be the woman who finally tamed the infamous Damien Sinclair.”
I smiled sweetly, ignoring the way his words felt like a test. “What can I say? He’s full of surprises.”
Christopher smirked, clearly entertained, but before he could say more, Damien smoothly guided me away, his grip firm.
“He doesn’t believe it,” I whispered once we were out of earshot.
“Christopher doesn’t believe anything unless he sees it for himself,” Damien replied.
- Writer
