Chapter 7 MOONLIGHT.
\~~~SERENA
And just like that, the whole world knew.
That I was his woman and that Damien Hale, the man who could freeze blood with a glance, and we were getting married in two weeks.
Two weeks.
We hadn’t even discussed it. But right there, under the glare of cameras and flashing lights, he’d said it. His voice smooth, commanding, and final.
“And in two weeks, we shall tie the knot.”
I nearly forgot how to breathe.
Two weeks?
Ah, God, this man would be the death of me.
The crowd went wild and questions flew like bullets. Reporters shoved mics closer, each one desperate for a quote or reaction. But Damien didn’t flinch… not even a blink.
He just slipped his hand into mine, firm and unyielding. The gesture looked romantic to the cameras but felt like a silent warning to me.
Keep up. Don’t speak. And smile.
And oh, I did Awkwardly, and shakily while my mind screamed at me to run.
The security team moved in, forming a wall around us as we headed toward the waiting black car. Damien’s stride was confident, and unhurried like a man perfectly in control of the chaos he’d just created.
And I just followed, my heart hammering in my chest, pulse tripping over itself with every step. His hand was still wrapped around mine… hot, possessive, and grounding me and burning me all at once.
When we finally reached the car, he opened the door for me like a gentleman from a movie scene except his jaw was set, and his expression unreadable.
I slipped inside, stealing one last glance at the flashing cameras outside.
And as the door shut behind us with a soft, final thud, I exhaled the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
“OhmyGodohmyGod,” I whispered under my breath, palms slick against my thighs.
But, he didn’t say a word. He only browsed through his phone and I turned my head to look at this maddening man who doesn’t seem to bother about what might be going on in my head.
“Two weeks?!” I finally blurted out, unable to hold it in anymore.
He didn’t spare me a glance, but instead, he reached for the switch and slowly raised the privacy blind between us and the driver “You’ve got a problem with that, Moonlight?”
I froze.
Moonlight.
I don’t know if he was teasing me or mocking me, but my stomach had absolutely no reason to twist the way it did. My chest tightened, pulse skipping at the deep timbre of his voice when he said it.
“Two weeks, Damien?” I repeated, hoping he’d see the reason behind my almost crashing out.
He finally glanced at me then, eyes dark and amused. “Why, baby girl? You want it sooner?” His lips curved in a lazy, dangerous smirk. “We might not be able to throw a party, but we could register the marriage tomorrow if you so much as ask. All it takes is your word…”
“Are we not moving too fast?” I cut him off, throwing my hands up in disbelief.
He chuckled low, smooth, and so annoyingly calm. The sound rolled through the quiet car like smoke, seeping under my skin.
“Fast is everything we are not moving, baby girl. Getting married tomorrow, or the next two days… That is my kind of fast.”
My throat went dry. “You don’t just decide something like that, Damien.”
“Oh, but I do.” His voice dipped lower, silk over steel. “You’ll learn that about me soon enough.”
I blinked at him, half in disbelief, half in something dangerously close to fascination.
Just because I was marrying this man didn’t mean that I should forget who he was.
He is everything I am not.
And when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING in every fucking sense that mattered. Power, control, composure, danger. Oh, and the age difference!
Don’t even get me started.
He was like a storm that didn’t need to rage to destroy. The man whose silence carried more weight than most people’s threats.
And me?
Hehehe, I was the bold idiot walking straight into his world with my eyes wide open.
“You really don’t listen, do you?” I breathed out.
“Not when I’ve already made up my mind,” he said easily, his tone soft but final. “And before you overthink this, you look beautiful when you’re upset, but you talk too much when you’re nervous.”
My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
He leaned forward slightly, closing the space between us. The faint scent of his cologne that screamed expensive, dark, and unmistakably him wrapped around me.
After a while of sitting in silence again, I leaned closer to him and then picked at my fingers.
“We should come to an agreement.”
He tore his eyes off his phone like I was a bone in his throat, “I was right about you talking too much. Tell me, moonlight. What agreement?”
“We both know our marriage is going to be fake. Don't you think we should draft a contract? Like…”
I trailed off when I saw the displeasure that edged his face. But, regardless, I continued. “Maybe a one-year agreement? We could divorce after a year or after six months. We could…”
I stopped talking again when his gaze lifted to mine slow, sharp, and unbearably steady.
The air in the car shifted instantly.
That quiet, composed danger that always surrounded him suddenly felt thicker, heavier. Like a warning cloaked in stillness.
“Divorce?” he repeated softly, but it wasn’t a question. It was a statement which was calm, and lethal.
My throat went dry. “It’s just… it would make things clear between us. You know, since this isn’t exactly…”
“Real?” he cut in, his tone smooth, cold enough to make my pulse stumble.
“Exactly!” I clasped my hands together. Thinking on the other hand that he was seeing reasons with what I was saying.
“I mean, this is not exactly what you… What we want. I am sure later, we will settle for someone whom we truly like.” Oh, can I just shut up already? “I will fall in love again. Own a cat… I love cats, actually” He did not even ask you, Serena! “And you will be with the woman who is befitting for you. Once that is prettier and…
I should have my mouth padlocked after today.
He set his phone down on the seat beside him, his full attention now on me. “You think you can walk into my life, wear my ring, carry my name, and then walk away when you’re bored?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
I don’t like his humor one bit. Not like anything I said was meant to be funny, but… I mean…
“Then clarify, moonlight.” His voice dropped lower, darker. “Because I don't pretend. Not in business. Not in marriage. And definitely not with what is mine.”
My heart skipped.
‘What is mine?’
The way he said it… the quiet conviction… It felt less like a warning and more like a vow.
“I am not y–”
He leaned closer, his breath brushing the shell of my ear and I automatically swallowed my words.
“If you’re going to be my wife, even on paper, you’ll learn one thing first. When I claim something, I don’t give it back. Ever.”
“D… Damien.”
“The wedding team will contact you for your choice of wedding,” he leaned closer to me.
“I will throw you your dream wedding party. No,” his lips curved slightly. “I will throw you the kind of wedding the world will never forget. Because when you finally wear my name, people will know it is permanent.”
He leaned back, his hand brushing mine. Not a touch, not quite. Just enough to make him feel him.
“You will walk into that wedding wearing my ring, standing beside me, and every camera, every headline and every whisper will truly know who you belong to. And the moment I kiss you before the world,” he glanced at my lips.
“I will not pretend.”
Wait. Wait. Fuck, wait!
Ryan never told me his uncle was a psychopath amongst many other things!
OHMYGODDDDD!