Chapter 18
Apr 30, 2025
Damon’s POV
It had been four days. Four long, frustrating days.
Not a single text. No calls. No sarcastic remarks. No ice-cold glares. No nothing.
Miranda had gone completely silent.
I’d told myself it was fine. She needed space. I needed space. The last thing we needed was to push each other after that hospital drama.
But now… now, there was no more time. The annual anniversary gala was tonight, and the entire elite class of the city would be there. I couldn’t go alone. Not after the public announcement. Not after officially introducing Miranda as my fiancée. My soon-to-be wife.
I’d called her phone. Twice. Then three times. By the sixth call, I stopped expecting her to pick up.
“Damn it, Miranda,” I muttered, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.
Enough was enough.
I grabbed my keys and stormed out of my apartment, sliding into the driver’s seat with the kind of determination I hadn’t felt in days. I wasn’t going to let her ghost me like this. Not today.
The drive to her family mansion was swift, thanks to my increasingly impatient foot on the gas. I barely parked before I was out of the car and striding to the front door.
Her mother opened it. Elegant as always.
“Damon?”
“Hi, Mrs. Steven. I need to see Miranda.”
She smiled politely, not without a hint of mischief in her eyes. “She’s upstairs. Last door on the right.”
“Thanks.”
I didn’t hesitate. I took the stairs two at a time, my heartbeat matching the rhythm of my urgency. When I reached her door, I paused for a second and knocked.
“Who is it?” came her voice from inside.
Even muffled through the door, her voice still managed to make my chest tighten.
“It’s me,” I said, loud enough to be heard.
“What do you want?”
Straight to the point. That was Miranda, alright. I didn’t answer. I pushed the door open slowly. She was sitting by her window, a book in her lap that she clearly wasn’t reading.
She turned sharply. “Why would you enter my room without permission?”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “You weren’t answering your phone.”
“So? That gives you the right to break into my room?”
“I didn’t break anything,” I said. “The door was unlocked.”
“That’s not the point, Damon.”
“I know. Look, I’m sorry. I just… I needed to talk to you.”
“Then talk.”
I exhaled and stepped further into the room.
“There’s the anniversary gala tonight. The company’s. You know the one.”
“And?”
“And… I need you to go with me.”
She looked back out the window.
“Miranda. You can’t just pretend none of this matters. We made an agreement.”
Still nothing.
“You agreed to pretend to love me for a year. That included public events.”
She didn’t even flinch. But after a long pause, she said, quietly, “Then apologize.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Apologize to me.”
My eyes narrowed. “For what, exactly?”
“For shouting at me at the hospital. For not respecting my boundaries. For calling my parents when I specifically said not to. For storming out like a child.”
I stared at her. She wasn’t even looking at me. But her voice was steady. Unshaken.
“Miranda…”
She finally turned her head toward me. “If you want me to go with you tonight, Damon, then say the words.”
God, she was serious and the thing was… she was right. I’d been out of line. I knew it. I hated it. But admitting it?
Hell.
Still, I sucked in a breath and looked her straight in the eye.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you at the hospital. I shouldn’t have pushed you or called your parents behind your back. I was worried, okay? But I should’ve respected your choice. That was wrong of me. And I’m sorry.”
The silence between us stretched so long it nearly choked me.
Then she closed the book and set it on her nightstand. “What time does the party start?”
“Seven.”
She nodded. “Then you better be ready. I’ll go.”
A grin broke across my face. I couldn’t stop it even if I tried.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s just get through the night without killing each other.”
“Deal.”
