Chapter 3 Headlines and Lies

The morning light filtered through silk curtains, casting a golden sheen across the room. Selena hadn't slept.

Her ring-too heavy, too real-glinted on her finger as if mocking her. She sat on the edge of the bed, back straight, heart hollow.

She didn't belong in this world. Not in Damien Blackthorn's empire of cold stone and sharp suits.

But she'd sold her soul to it.

A soft knock echoed through her door.

She didn't answer.

It opened anyway.

Damien entered in a tailored charcoal suit, every step calculated. He carried himself like a king-and looked like one too. Calm, lethal, entirely unaffected by the fact that their lives were about to be plastered across the media.

"You have fifteen minutes," he said. "We leave for the engagement shoot at ten sharp."

Selena raised her eyes to him. "You barged into my room. I didn't give you permission."

"I own the room."

"No," she said. "You own the contract. Not me."

A flicker passed through his eyes. Amusement? Irritation? She couldn't tell. He left the room without a word.

Selena stared after him, jaw clenched. God, she hated how good he looked when he walked away-like he was always in control. Like nothing and no one could touch him.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of rattling her.

Not today.

Not ever.

An Hour Later - Blackthorn Studios, Downtown Manhattan

The set looked like a dream-cream velvet, gold accents, and massive floral arches. Cameras surrounded them. Stylists fluttered. Lights flashed.

To the world, they were in love.

Selena wore an off-shoulder silk gown, her hair curled and lips painted a soft red. Damien stood beside her, dark and commanding in his designer suit, his hand resting casually at her waist as if he had every right to be there.

"Smile," he whispered.

"I'd rather choke."

"You can smile and choke. Multitask."

The photographer snapped another round, calling them the perfect couple.

Perfect lie, she thought.

"Now a candid, please," the photographer directed. "Whisper something romantic, Mr. Blackthorn."

Damien leaned in, lips at her ear. "Try not to look like you want to stab me."

Selena smiled sweetly for the camera. "Keep whispering. I'll make it look like foreplay."

The tension between them buzzed like electricity. The photographer ate it up. And so would the media.

By noon, headlines exploded across the internet:

"Billionaire Damien Blackthorn Engaged to Socialite Selena Hart!"

"Business Deal or Fairy Tale?"

"Inside the Wedding of the Year!"

Social media roared. Speculation, praise, gossip-exactly what Damien wanted.

Exactly what she feared.

That Evening - The Penthouse

Selena stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, wine glass untouched in her hand, watching the world below. Her phone buzzed nonstop-texts from fake friends, tabloids, and even her ex.

She didn't care.

Not about the noise. Not about the money. Not even about the lie.

But the trap she'd walked into?

That scared her.

Damien entered, his jacket now off, his sleeves rolled up. He poured himself a drink without asking if she wanted one.

"You handled today well," he said.

"Like a trained actress?"

"Like someone who knows how to survive."

Selena turned, facing him. "Why me, Damien? There are a thousand women who'd sell their soul for your name."

He sipped his drink, eyes fixed on her. "Exactly. They would've done it for free."

She swallowed hard. "And me?"

"You made it a business deal. That means I can trust you-more than anyone else."

Silence stretched.

For a second, he wasn't the cold tycoon. Just a man who'd seen too much. Carried too much.

Then it vanished.

"Get some sleep," he said, setting his glass down. "Tomorrow, we negotiate living arrangements."

She arched a brow. "There's nothing to negotiate."

"Isn't there?" He stepped closer. "You may have signed away your freedom, Selena-but you didn't read the fine print."

Her pulse kicked.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered.

He leaned in, his voice like silk over steel. "Nothing yet. But when I do, you'll give it. Willingly."

And with that, he left.

Leaving her with silence.

And a racing heart she hated.