Chapter Four

Damien’s POV

I sat down at the far end of the hotel restaurant, staring through the tall glass windows overlooking a beautiful flower garden and a waterfall, sipping my favorite champagne. I loved the quiet and calmness just before a crucial meeting. It gave me time to collect my thoughts. It was going so well until I saw someone from the corner of my eye pull out the chair across from me.

My eyes snapped in her direction. I was not expecting my guest until later, and my guest surely looked nothing like the dark-haired beauty standing in front of me. “Are you lost, miss?” I asked.

She flashed me a charming smile, accentuated by her dimpled cheeks. “Hello, I’m Clarissa Devor, CEO of Darcel Group. I will be representing the company on the new project given to you. But before talking business, could I propose something else to you?”

I looked at her, slightly taken aback by it all. Clarissa Devor, Darcel Group, it was all too familiar. I nodded in response, giving her the go-ahead.

She extended a hand to me, long slender fingers with nails coated red. I tried not to linger on her hand as I took it in mine. Then her next words blew my mind, “Will you marry me?”

I almost spat out my drink. She held my gaze, unfazed by my reaction. My eyes widened in shock.

She sat down across from me, crossed her legs, and signaled to the waiter, who came running down. “I’ll have whatever he’s having…”

My brows knit in confusion as I watched her, waiting for her to break it to me that this was a joke. It had to be. Who proposes marriage to a man they have never met before?

She checked her wristwatch. “You’re supposed to be in a meeting in the next forty-five minutes with my sister…” She shrugged. “It was unauthorized, but she does whatever she wants. I’ll be handling the meeting myself, so I say we wrap up this segment quickly so we can get to the business part.” She paused to gauge my reaction. “Mr. Martinez, you strike me as the kind of person who takes business seriously.”

I smirked as I watched her. She was as amusing as she was beautiful. Just then, the waiter appeared with a glass and poured her champagne.

“Thank you,” she smiled politely at the waiter and turned her attention back to me. “So, what do you say?”

I signaled the waiter, he dropped the bottle on the table and left. I leaned forward. “Let me get this straight, miss…”

“Clarissa, call me Clarissa, please,” she cut in. “If we are to be married, we must be on a first-name basis. It will be odd if we aren’t.”

To say I was intrigued by her was putting it lightly. “You are asking me to marry you?”

She furrowed her brows. “Yes… is it such an unthinkable idea?”

She was confident too. I liked it.

I shrugged and took a sip of my champagne, giving her a once-over. She was a really beautiful woman. Her hair was long, dark, and straight. I knew just by looking at it that it had a silky feel to it. I wondered what it smelled like, I imagined burying my nose in it.

If she noticed me unashamedly ogling her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she held my gaze, those entrancing grey orbs, as my eyes wandered her whole body. She was slim, but even underneath that business suit, I could tell she was curvy in all the right places.

I smiled in amusement. “You’re irresistible, I’m not gonna lie, Clarissa…”

“Very well then, we have a deal,” she extended a hand to me.

“Hold on…”

Clarissa’s POV

I held his gaze even though my heart was racing in my chest. It was a skill I had learned from my father. If you wanted to succeed in a ruthless business world as a woman, you needed to master the art of concealing your emotions. Of course, I was nervous. A few days ago, I was pronounced dead, betrayed, and killed by people I loved dearly. I woke up in a press conference, and now I was proposing marriage to America’s most eligible bachelor, who, by the way, was smoking hot. He was wearing a finely tailored three-piece suit, clearly towering over me, with muscled arms and toned legs. His blond hair was cropped short and styled to perfection.

My eyes wandered to his perfect face. It was almost too perfect to be real, like Michelangelo had sculpted him himself. He had a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. His nose was well-proportioned to his face, with finely shaven beards on his chin and jawline. It was like staring at the face of a model.

I looked away, unable to withstand his penetrating gaze. His eyes were a stormy grey, like staring into a stormy sky with emotions swirling in them. I pretended to be interested in the bubbles in my champagne flute. I knew he was checking me out, not bothering to be subtle about it.

“Hold on…”

I slowly withdrew my hand. Of course, there was a catch. “What is it?” I asked, marveling at the strength in my voice.

He held my gaze, a small smirk creeping up on his lips. “Clarissa Devor… I’ll take up your offer on one condition…”

I tried not to pay attention to the way my name rolled off his tongue like it was the most exotic thing. “What is it?” I asked in curiosity.

I could see the desire swirling in his eyes. He gulped down the contents of his glass, got to his feet, and walked up to me. I straightened my back as he came up behind me, feeling his hot breath at my nape. “I was hoping to buy you a drink or two and lure you to my bed…”

I could hear the smirk in his voice.

He moved his lips to my earlobe and lightly brushed against it.

I tightened my grip on the champagne flute, trying to steady my racing heart. I felt the fear that it would break from the force of my grip.

“…and fuck you…” he paused, with a tinge of amusement in his voice, “in ways you would approve of.” He whispered the last bit.

I shuddered, unable to resist it anymore. I couldn’t tell if it was the hoarseness of his voice, the rawness of his words, or the fact that his lips brushed against my earlobe. Maybe it was all of it at the same time. I swallowed and cleared my throat.

His deep chuckle reverberated in his chest. “I thought so…”

“Okay then,” I stood to my feet. “That bit is settled.” I grabbed my purse and spun around to stare into those captivating eyes. I was ignoring the screaming voice in my head, telling me this was a bad idea. There was no place where it made sense to follow a random stranger home or be married to him either, but here I was asserting to that.

His eyes widened in shock, but he quickly masked it, slipping his fingers into his pocket. “Very well, then.”

It was a game of revenge for me, I told myself, revenge against my sister and my stupid husband for betraying me and killing me. But it was also much more than that, a truth I was scared to confront. I couldn’t tell if it was the wicked glint in his eyes or the alluring voice of the stranger making wicked promises but I was enticed by it. I tried to fight back the images I was conjuring in my head, images of me naked, writhing in his arms…

“Shall we, Clarissa?” he asked, interrupting my musings.