The Billionaire I Married By Mistake

"Ready to be my mistake?"

His voice was low, deep, and maddeningly calm. Damon's hand brushed mine. It was firm, warm and terrifying.

I blinked up at him, confused. "What?"

But the priest didn't wait. "Do you, Amira Hart, take Damon Blackwood as your lawfully wedded husband..."

I froze. Cameras clicked around us, the scent of expensive roses hung heavy in the air, and my legs were trembling inside a borrowed designer gown.

What was I doing here?

This wasn't a wedding. It was a deal. A secret arrangement sealed with signatures and silence. I needed the money. He needed... well, I still wasn't sure what he needed. But from the way his jaw clenched and his eyes gave away nothing, I knew one thing:

I wasn't marrying a man. I was marrying a mystery.

"I... do," I heard myself whisper.

And then the priest turned to him. Damon didn't hesitate. "I do."

A moment later, his lips brushed mine, barely there, emotionless, rehearsed. Just for show. Just enough to seal the lie.

The audience clapped. Somewhere behind the white curtains, I knew a PR team was already uploading this moment. "Billionaire Tech Mogul Damon Blackwood Marries in Secret Ceremony!" Headlines were already forming.

But none of them knew the truth.

None of them knew this marriage wasn't real.

And the worst part?

Neither did I.

Two hours later, I sat in the backseat of his absurdly sleek Rolls Royce, staring down at the diamond ring on my finger like it was a handcuff. Because it was.

"You're quiet," Damon said without looking at me.

"I just married a man I barely know. What do you want me to say? Yay?"

"Some gratitude would be nice. That ring cost more than your student debt."

I turned to face him slowly. "How do you know I have student debt?"

"I make it my business to know everything. Especially about my wife."

There was something in his voice, calculated! Like marrying me wasn't just convenient. It was necessary.

"You could've picked any woman to fake-marry. Why me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He smiled. Not the kind that reached his eyes. The kind people use when they're lying. "You were the most desperate", he said.

Ouch.

He wasn't wrong, though.

My rent was three months overdue. My little brother was on the verge of being kicked out of school. And my best friend, Nina, had talked me into signing up for this weird "mystery marriage challenge" hosted by some shady agency for "rich people who want a low-profile union."

I thought it was a joke. Until I got the call. Then the contract. Then the cash advance.

And now, this!

"What's your end game?" I asked.

He finally looked at me. There it was again, that unreadable gaze. "You'll know when I want you to."

The rest of the ride was silent.

.................

His penthouse sat on the 71st floor of a high-rise that touched clouds. The walls were glass. The view was ridiculous. And the tension between us could've snapped steel.

"This is home," he said, unlocking the door with his thumbprint. "Your room is down the hall. Don't touch my stuff. Don't ask about my business. And don't ever fall in love with me."

I laughed before I could stop myself. "Please. Your ego is louder than your car."

He smirked. Just a little. "Good. Keep that energy."

He walked off, his tailored suit moving like sin. And I stood there, in a stranger's castle, pretending to be his queen.

OMG! What had I done?

That night, I tossed and turned in the luxury guest room, my mind spinning.

This was supposed to be simple: play the wife, attend a few public events, collect the monthly payout, disappear.

No strings.

But nothing about Damon felt simple.

The man moved like he owned the world and like he was hiding something from it.

I got up, tiptoed to the kitchen. Water, I told myself. Just water.

And then I heard it. His voice! Muffled. Coming from his room. The door was slightly open.

"...She has no idea. And she doesn't need to. As long as she plays her part."

Silence.

"I didn't marry her for fun. This is about control. And timing."

My blood ran cold.

Me. A pawn. A temporary wife in someone's master plan.

And the worst part?

I'd walked right into it.

To be continued...