Chapter 10
Apr 30, 2025
Miranda’s POV
Damon’s eyes didn’t leave mine as he leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled. “So let me ask you something, Miranda. Why didn’t you just take over your father’s company? Why work for my father, and then me, instead?”
I wasn’t surprised by the question. It had been coming.
“I honestly had no idea our families were connected,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “If I had known your father and my grandfather were friends, I might have thought twice. Or maybe not.”
His brow quirked. “Thought twice about what?”
“About keeping my life in LA a secret.”
He frowned. “You hid it from your family?”
I nodded. “Completely. When I left home, it was intentional. I wanted space. Freedom. I needed to know what it felt like to build something on my own, even if it was just a résumé.”
Damon’s expression softened slightly. “That’s… unexpected.”
“I figured,” I said, smiling faintly. “It wasn’t easy. But I didn’t want handouts. I wanted to see who I was without all the privilege. I wanted the pressure of having to report to someone. Of being accountable.”
“Accountable,” he repeated, his tone curious.
“Yes.” I looked away briefly, recalling those first few nights in my small apartment. “And maybe if I had told my parents or grandfather the name of the company I was working for, I would’ve realized sooner. But I didn’t. So here we are.”
He stared at me a little too long, and I cleared my throat. “You’re impressed, aren’t you?”
“Very,” he admitted.
There was a small pause before I threw the ball back at him. “So what about you, Jeremiah? Or is it Damon? Why the charade?”
He chuckled. “I suppose it started as rebellion. Five years ago.”
“Rebellion?” I echoed, raising a brow.
He nodded. “I left for London because I was tired of my father. We never got along. Always butting heads. He wanted things his way. And I, well, I didn’t.”
“So… you left and changed your name?”
“Not legally,” he replied. “But in the business world? Yeah. I started over. Built a name. Proved myself. Away from him.”
“You were running.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But I was also finding myself.”
I tilted my head. “And what brought you back?”
“My father’s death,” he said quietly. “And the fact that I’m the only child. There was no one else to take over.”
My lips parted slightly at the weight in his voice. “That must’ve been… complicated.”
“It was,” he said simply.
We sat quietly for a moment, the air thick with unsaid things. Eventually, I tilted my head and studied him.
“Why are you so cold?”
His head snapped up. “I’m not cold.”
I laughed. “Yes, you are. Distant. Calculated. Very… contained.”
He scoffed. “I prefer to think of myself as… composed.”
“That’s a polite way of saying emotionally constipated.”
He smirked. “And you’re annoyingly observant.”
“Come with the job,” I said with a grin.
He rolled his eyes but said nothing.
The silence stretched again until I couldn’t hold my curiosity any longer. “Why did you even come here today?” I asked. “You said you had no intention of going along with the arrangement.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “Not until now.”
That pulled me up short. “Now?”
He nodded. “Yes. I had a change of mind.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes searched mine, and then he said, “Because maybe we can both get something out of it.”
I blinked. “You’re saying… you want to go through with the marriage?”
“Yes,” he said. “But only on one condition.”
My stomach tightened. “What condition?”
He leaned forward, dead serious. “We sign a contract. One year of marriage. Nothing more, nothing less. We help each other meet our goals, then we go our separate ways.”
I blinked once. Then again.
My jaw dropped. “You want me to sign a contractual marriage with you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
“It’s business,” he casually answered.
“Marriage is not a business!”
“Arranged marriage is. And that’s what this is.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So… let me get this straight. You’re proposing that we sign a document that binds us together for one year as husband and wife… just so we can keep our families happy and secure our stakes in their legacies?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“And after one year?”
“We walk away. No strings.”
I stared at him, speechless.
“Think about it,” he added. “It solves everything. You fulfill your grandfather’s dying wish. I secure the company from vultures. We play the perfect couple for twelve months, then part ways as rich, accomplished individuals.”
“What the hell?!” I muttered, still stunned
