Chapter 8 Terms Of Engagement

Since the red carpet announcement, Isla's phone hadn't stopped ringing-calls from her parents, her sister Sophia, and everyone trying to reach her.

But she couldn't answer. Not because she didn't want to, but because she had no words to explain.

How could she tell them she had been essentially kidnapped by her ex-husband's billionaire rival?

That he had offered the perfect revenge in exchange for marriage?

They would think she had lost her mind. So she kept ignoring them, buying time to plan.

Saturday morning brought a rude shock. Right after breakfast, a security guard burst in.

"Your family is at the gate ma'am."

For a paralyzing moment, Isla stood frozen, panic turning her limbs to stone. Damien was home. This couldn't be happening.

"Tell them I'll be out in a minute," she managed to whisper, the words sticking in her dry throat.

Minutes later, Isla finally summoned the courage to step out of the house. From a distance, she spotted her father, Robert Carter, standing firm at the center. Beside him, her mother, Mariam, wore a worried expression, while Sophia was standing with one hip jutting out, eyes locked on her own.

With a forced smile, Isla approached.

"Mom, Dad, Sophia... why didn't you call first?"

Her father's face tightened. "Call? Oh, We did. Only that you conveniently ignored them all."

Isla's guilty blink betrayed her. "What's going on honey?" her mother's worried voice came next.

"Why are you even here?"

Isla swallowed, shifting her gaze to Sophia, who seemed to be reading her mind.

Isla shifted on her feet, her cheek twitching as she repeated, "I can explain." But their voices rose, echoing around the estate until new footsteps silenced them.

Isla didn't turn. She knew who it was.

As for her family members, their eyes darted past Isla, going straight for the source of the sound.

"Damien." her father said.

Isla's heartbeat started to rise. She knew how he had always warned her to keep things low-key.

They had to control the narrative before the world twisted it for them. Now, here she was, standing outside with her family, causing a scene, creating food for the hungry media to feast on.

He must be furious by now.

When Damien finally stepped beside her, she still couldn't look at him. Instead, she kept her eyes on her parents with her throat bobbing.

Her entire family too, had their eyes on Damian, the look in each eye curious.

Damien didn't speak immediately. However, when he finally opened his mouth, his voice was nothing like Isla had expected.

It was calm, friendly, and surprisingly natural.

"Mr. and Mrs. Carter, I was actually planning to invite you over soon."

Isla's lips parted in silent astonishment. In fifteen minutes, Damien had disarmed them more completely than she had in twenty-three years. What black magic did this man possess?

Her parents' expressions transformed, her father nodding in approval. Even Sophia went quiet.

Damien led her parents inside. They settled for coffee in one of the grand sitting rooms. Damien, taking charge of the conversation at once.

He made them feel like they had always known each other. To the point that even her father, who had initially been reserved, gradually started to open up, suddenly talking more and more until he started to reveal things that caught even Mariam and Sophia off guard.

He was revealing personal stories about the Carter family. Starting from how he was once a successful businessman But then a sudden misfortune had taken it all away.

Then a name dropped between them: "Graham Wellington."

Damien's fingers paused around his coffee cup.

"The vulture who picks at financial corpses now works for the government," Robert said sorrowfully.

"He called it 'creative restructuring' while stealing my bank's assets," her father said bitterly. "Left thirty employees without pensions."

And as Isla sat there, watching the two men swap stories, and how Damien had made her father say all this in just a few minutes, she could not help but feel nothing but quiet admiration.

After her family left, Isla found Damien by the grand piano, running his thumb over a silver lighter. "That was...unexpected. Thank you."

He looked up, surprised. "They're good people."

Isla nodded once, thinking about how her family had all left with none of them even bothering to ask the questions that had brought them. Damien had indeed charmed their minds.

A small smile of disbelief graced her face.

At least her phone wouldn't be ringing non-stop after today.

Just as she was about to return to her room, Damien's voice made her stop.

"And... don't forget. We have the gala coming up tonight."

Before she could respond, a team of stylists swept in. "We're here for Mrs. Blackwood."

Isla's face went back to Damien, who now had his signature smirk back in place.

He gestured smoothly toward the stylists.

"Go on, let them work. We have to put on a good show, you know."

Isla blinked at him, still at a loss, but before she could protest, she was already surrounded.

Soon, she sat stiffly in the chair as they took her measurements, adjusted her makeup, and so on.

From the doorway, Damien leaned against the frame to relax and observe his contracted wife.

There was something new in his gaze now, something Isla could not make sense of.

"You're lucky, Mrs. Blackwood," one of the stylists remarked, cutting off her thought. "Your husband wants you to look perfect tonight."

Isla held her breath at those words. Her eyes returned to the mirror for the umpteenth time, where she met Damien's gaze earlier.

Something rumbled in her stomach.

The fear and the doubt and the questions she had been nursing for days now started to rise again.

Were they still playing a game now?

Or had the game already started playing her?