Married At Midnight

Elle's POV

"I've spent my life surrounded by people who only want power," he says, his voice low, almost like a secret meant only for me. "Status, wealth, appearances... that's their world, my world. Then you showed up. Now, none of it matters. You make it real."

My pulse quickens. The warmth of his hand spreads across my skin.

"You make me feel like I can breathe," he whispers.

My instincts tell me to pull away, but I don't. Instead, my fingers lean into his touch as if they've known him ages ago.

Then, without warning, he drops to one knee.

A collective gasp echo through the hall. The music stops, even the lights seem to freeze.

Deep in my gut, my curse stirs.

A flicker of a vision. A grieving man with these exact eyes, shadows from a life that isn't mine. Then it's gone.

Strange...

"Will you marry me?"

For a second, nobody moves. Then the silence breaks.

"Who is she?"

"Is this a publicity stunt?"

"She isn't even dressed for this."

Heat creeps up my neck, stinging and hot. My simple black gown, a safe choice an hour ago, now feels like a charcoal smudge in a sea of glitter.

He leans in, his voice almost desperate. "Please. Say yes. I'll explain later."

The whispers rise like a tide. His grip is an anchor I can't shake, and I find myself staring at him, completely lost.

"Surprise engagements never go well," someone sneers.

"Where did he find her? Why hasn't she been on the blogs?"

I should say no, ask questions, run the hell away from here. Yes, that's exactly what I'm going...

"Yes."

The word slips out before I can stop it.

The room explodes. Cameras flash. My legs go numb as a heavy, cold ring slides onto my finger. I've just sold my life for a single breath.

He pulls me closer, his inhale sharp against my ear. "Thank you."

"I'm going to pass out," I manage to choke out.

He lets out a rough laugh, turning to the crowd, raising our joined hands. "She said yes!"

Before I can process what has just happened, a shadow falls over us. A man in a suit, radiating military precision, appears.

"Take her to my office," Damian orders.

Excuse me?

I have barely thought of it, let alone ask when the man takes my arm, firmly through the suffocating crowd into a freezing corridor. I look back once, but Damian is already speaking to someone.

Fantastic!

I've just agreed to marry a billionaire, and my new fiancé is already too busy to accompany me.

What a wonderful start to a marriage.

The man leads me through a freezing corridor, my heels clicking against the floor as we approach a pair of massive gold doors.

Behind me, the party continues.

Ahead of me, I have absolutely no idea what I've gotten myself into.

*****

EARLIER THAT EVENING...

For weeks, The Crowned Heart had been our obsession.

Camila and I had practically made a sport out of discussing every plot twist, arguing over fictional men and judging characters who consistently made terrible life decisions.

We should be screaming at the latest episode together tonight, but she's miles away at her company's stiff gala.

Which mean I have the entire house all to myself.

Heaven!

I'm finally settling deeper into the couch, my favourite blanket wrapped around me and a bowl of popcorn within reach, when my phone buzz on the kitchen counter. I groan while dragging myself to go answer.

"Hey," I answer, sounding lazy. "Shouldn't you be bossing waiters or charming investors right now?"

"Elle, save me!"

I close my eyes. Here we go.

"I left my leather notebook on the table, the one he gave me to plan for tonight. My boss will kill me if he notices I don't have it. Please, you know we need this job."

I press my forehead against the counter. "Ugh huh... Seriously, Cam? I was seconds away to a Netflix coma."

"It's on the table! Please, just get it for me. Love you."

There it is. That particular tone of hers that always gets me. I glance at my blanket, then at the popcorn waiting for me. My quiet night is officially dead.

"You owe me big time," I mutter as I end the call.

I change into a short, simple black dress and sandals, yank off my hair bonnet, letting my curls fall free. I don't have the energy for more. One quick trip, I tell myself. Drop it off and get back.

Easy.

******

I'm here hovering by the entrance. Camila isn't picking her calls. I should leave, but the music pulls me in. Damn... This is massive. Ballroom's enormous with expensive looking decorations everywhere.

I look down at my dress, well, at least I'm clothed.

I try Camilla's number again, nothing.

I consider leaving the notebook with someone, but I have no idea who I'm supposed to give it to. She didn't exactly provide a detailed delivery plan.

So, against my better judgement, I step further into the ballroom.

And that's when I see him.

Damian Blackwell, New York's most eligible bachelor.

He's near the stairs with his popular uncle on Tiktok, Harrison. The tension between them is obvious. Damian looks like a man who has absolutely no interest in being there.

His uncle, on the other hand, like someone who can find a reason to complain about the weather on a sunny afternoon.

Not my business.

I adjust my grip on the notebook and begin to look for a way out.

Unfortunately, Harrison already spotted me.

He snaps his fingers as if I'm a stray dog. "You. Come here."

I ignore him, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a glance, because that definitely wasn't me he just spoke to like that.

His expression darkens. "I said, come here."

I turn towards the exit because I neither have the time nor the energy to entertain a grown man who apparently thinks he's summoning a house pet.

But before I can take another step, his hand closes around my arm.

Hard, jerking me backwards.

"I said, come here."

I just know this foolish man has bruised me, I open my mouth ready to put him in his place when a voice cuts through.

"Let her go."

Damian moves toward us. Up close, he looks different from the polished pictures we get online. There's just something about this man... He slides his hand into mine, and the room goes dead.

"Son, this isn't the time. I'll take care of this..."

"I said let her go."

Harrison lets go slowly, wearing a fake, evil smile as I scramble back, rubbing the spot where his fingers had dug into my skin.

Damian's face changes into something I can't read. Then he reaches for my hand and that moment, the noise around me fades away.

The endless voices, unwanted thoughts and constant stream of memories? All gone.

Whatttttt???

His attention remain on me and for some reason unexplainable I don't pull away.

*****

"Ma'am. This way."

I blink, snapping out of the memory. I give a quick nod and follow him into a huge, dark office. Bookshelves looming over us. In the center sits a massive desk, heavy and imposing as a throne.

Everything in here screams money.

"Please, wait here," the man says, gesturing towards a leather chair.

I sit, clutching Camila's notebook to my chest. My only lifeline. If things goes south, at least the book will survive. That should count for something.

The door clicks shut, and the silence becomes deafening. My hands won't stop shaking as the ballroom scenes replays again and again in my head: the bruise Harrison's grip left behind, the thunder of Damian's voice, and that blurred, frantic moment where my mouth whispered yes before my brain could even process the question.

What have I just done?

I look at the ring on my finger. It's beautiful. Expensive, probably.

But completely unwanted right now.

The door swings open again and Damian steps in. The warmth from the ballroom is gone; his eyes are cold, sizing me up. He loosens his tie and walk towards the desk.

"Tell me," he rasps, "why did my uncle have his hands on you?"

I blink.

Not even congratulations on our engagement?

I slowly lower the notebook onto my lap.

Oh, this would be a very long night.