The Emerald Club wasn't just exclusive—it was invisible.

I'd lived in this city my whole life and never even heard of it. The entrance was hidden behind a bookshop, down a marble staircase that seemed to go on forever. By the time I reached the bottom, my legs were shaking.

Or maybe that was just nerves.

"Name?" The bouncer was the size of a small car.

"Emma Hartley. I'm supposed to meet someone in VIP?"

He checked his tablet, then nodded. "Follow me."

The club interior was all dark velvet and gold accents. Chandeliers dripped from the ceiling. The music was low, sultry—the kind that made you feel like you were in a movie.

We passed through the main floor, up another staircase, and into a private section blocked by frosted glass doors.

The bouncer opened them.

And my breath caught.

The man sitting alone at the corner table wasn't just handsome—he was devastating. Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes so blue they looked unreal. He wore a black suit that probably cost more than my car, and when he looked up at me, I felt like I'd been pinned in place.

"Emma Hartley," he said. His voice was deep, controlled. "You actually came."

"Who are you?" I managed.

"Damien Cross." He gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit."

It wasn't a request.

I sat.

"You know who I am?" he asked.

I shook my head.

His smile was sharp. "Good. That means Adrian hasn't mentioned me. Which means he's more arrogant than I thought."

"How do you know Adrian?"

"We used to be business partners." Damien poured two glasses of whiskey—expensive, from the bottle—and slid one toward me. "Until he tried to steal my company out from under me. Cost me fifty million and two years of my life."

I picked up the glass but didn't drink. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Everything," he said. "Because you, Emma, are going to help me destroy him."

"I don't understand." I said

At the moment I heard destroy him something in me was so happy.

"Adrian filed a marriage certificate before your wedding, correct?" Damien leaned back.

"Which means you're still legally his wife. Which means you have access to things he doesn't want anyone to see."

My stomach twisted. "I don't have access to anything. He kicked me out."

"But you know his patterns. His passwords. His favorite restaurants, his meeting spots, his secrets." Damien's eyes locked on mine. "You know where he's vulnerable."

"Ummhh...why would I help you?" I set the glass down. "I don't even know you."

"Because I can give you what he took from you," Damien said simply. "Your dignity. Your reputation. Your future. I can make sure Adrian Castellan regrets the day he ever met you."

"For what price?" I asked

"Smart girl." His smile widened. "I need you to pretend to be my fiancée."

I blinked. "What?" I screamed because I wasn't expecting that.

"Adrian is trying to acquire Cross Industries through a merger with Hartfield Tech. The deal closes in six months. If I can prove he's an unstable partner, if I can make him lose his temper, make mistakes, ruin his reputation—the deal falls apart. And he loses everything."

"And you think me being your fake fiancée will do that?"

"I think," Damien said slowly, "that seeing you on my arm—happy, successful, madly in love with his enemy—will drive him absolutely insane."

He wasn't wrong.I know Adrian so much that something like this will definitely make him absolutely insane.

"What do I get?" I asked confidently

"Five million dollars. Paid in full once the deal falls through."

I almost choked. "Five million—" He cut me off

"Plus access to my legal team for your divorce. Plus a position at Cross Industries if you want it. Plus the satisfaction of watching Adrian Castellan's empire crumble."

It was too much. Too good to be true.

"Why me?" I whispered. "You could hire anyone"

"Because you're real," Damien interrupted. "You actually loved him. You actually believed in him. And when Adrian sees that I have what he threw away, it will destroy him from the inside out."

I looked at this beautiful, dangerous man across from me.

"This is insane," I said.

"Yes."

"It'll never work."

"It will."

"Adrian won't care"

"He will." Damien leaned forward. "Trust me, Emma. Men like Adrian never realize what they had until it's gone. And when he sees you with me? He'll break."

I thought about Adrian's cold eyes. His dismissive tone. The way he'd made me feel small.

I thought about Melissa in my wedding dress.

I thought about that divorce offer. One hundred thousand dollars for three years of my life. I had to choose wisely.

"When do we start?" I asked.

Damien's smile was pure danger.

"Right now."

I didn't sleep that night.

How could I? I'd just agreed to fake-date a man I'd met two hours ago, all to destroy my ex-husband who technically wasn't even my ex yet because we were still legally married even though we never actually had a wedding.

My head hurt.

At 6 AM, my phone rang. Unknown number. I already knew who it was.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, darling." Damien's voice was way too cheerful for this hour. "Hope I didn't wake you."

"I've been awake since three," I admitted.

"Good. That means you're taking this seriously." I could hear the smile in his voice. "My driver will pick you up at nine. We have shopping to do."

"Shopping?"

"Emma, you can't be seen with me wearing... whatever it is you're wearing right now."

I looked down at my ratty NYU t-shirt and pajama shorts. "How do you know what I'm wearing?"

He hung up.

I stared at my phone. Was he watching me? How did he even get my number?

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

The driver arrived at exactly 9 AM in a black Mercedes that probably cost more than my yearly salary used to be. He opened the door without a word, and I climbed in feeling completely out of place.

Damien was already inside.

He looked impossibly good in daylight-charcoal suit, no tie, hair slightly messy like he'd run his hands through it. He was scrolling through his phone, barely glancing at me.

"Seatbelt," he said.

I buckled up. The car started moving.

"Where are we going?"

"Marcus Atelier. They're holding the boutique for us."

"The entire boutique?"

"I don't like crowds." He finally looked at me, and those blue eyes scanned me from head to toe. Not sexual. Clinical. Like I was a project. "You'll need everything. Dresses, shoes, jewelry, lingerie-"

"I'm not wearing lingerie for you," I said quickly.

His eyebrow quirked. "It's not for me. It's for the photographers who will inevitably catch glimpses when you move, sit, dance. Every detail matters, Emma. If we're going to sell this, you need to look like you belong with me."

"And what does that look like?" I said with curiosity.

"Expensive. Confident. Untouchable." He turned back to his phone. "Right now, you look like a woman who's been crying for three months."

Jeez!!..I looked at myself. The words stung because they were true.

"I can pull this off," I said, lifting my chin.

"I know you can." His voice softened slightly. "That's why I chose you."

Marcus Atelier was the kind of place I used to walk past and dream about. Now I was being ushered inside like royalty, with an entire team of stylists waiting.

"Mr. Cross!" Marcus himself-a thin man with sharp features and an even sharper accent-air-kissed both of Damien's cheeks. "And this must be the lovely Emma."

"She needs everything," Damien said. "Evening wear, casual, business. I want her wardrobe completely rebuilt by end of day."

Marcus's eyes lit up. "Consider it done."

For the next four hours, I was poked, measured, dressed and undressed more times than I could count. Gowns in every color. Shoes that cost more than my monthly rent. Jewelry that required security guards to bring out.

Damien sat in a leather chair the entire time, watching. Occasionally he'd shake his head-no. Sometimes he'd nod-yes. Most of the time he just stared at me with an expression I couldn't read.

"Try the red one," he said when I was exhausted and ready to collapse.

"I've tried on thirty dresses"

"Try it."

I sighed and let Marcus's team squeeze me into a red silk gown that hugged every curve. It was backless, sophisticated, and made me look like someone else entirely.

Someone powerful.

I stepped out of the dressing room, and for the first time all day, Damien's expression changed.

He stood up.

Walked toward me slowly.

Stopped just inches away.

"This one," he said quietly. His eyes hadn't left mine. "You'll wear this tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Adrian's hosting a charity gala. We're going."

My stomach dropped. "Tonight? Damien, I can't-"

"Yes, you can." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was gentle, but his eyes were calculating. "This is what you signed up for, Emma. Tonight, we make our first public appearance. Together."

"He'll lose his mind," I whispered.

Damien smiled. "That's the point."

By seven PM, I was standing in front of my mirror and didn't recognize myself.

The red dress felt like it was made for me-because it was. My hair was styled in loose waves, makeup done by professionals who knew exactly how to make my eyes look bigger, my lips fuller. The diamond necklace Damien had insisted on felt cold against my skin.

I looked expensive.

I looked confident.

I looked like someone who belonged with Damien Cross.

The doorbell rang.

I opened it to find Damien in a full tuxedo, and oh God, it wasn't fair. No one should look that good.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No."

"Good. If you were ready, you'd be overconfident. Nerves will make this more believable." He offered his arm. "Shall we?"

I took it.

His arm was solid under my touch. Strong. Steady.

"Remember," he said as we walked to the car, "you're madly in love with me. You can't keep your hands off me. You look at me like I hung the moon."

"That's a lot of acting," I muttered.

"Then think of it this way-every smile you give me is a knife in Adrian's chest. Every touch is a reminder of what he lost. Every laugh is proof that you moved on."

I took a breath. "I can do that."

It's my chance to treat him bad the way he did to me so I have to put in all my best to do so.

"I know." He helped me into the car, then slid in beside me. "One more thing."

"What?"

He pulled out a small velvet box.

My heart stopped.

"Damien"

"Relax. It's not what you think." He opened it to reveal a stunning engagement ring. Emerald cut diamond, easily five carats, surrounded by smaller stones. "We're engaged, remember? You'll need to wear this."

He took my left hand-the same hand that used to wear Adrian's ring-and slid it on.

It fit perfectly.

"How did you know my size?" I asked.

"I know everything about you, Emma." His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Your ring size. Your favorite coffee. The fact that you haven't eaten anything since this morning because you're too nervous."

He pulled out a protein bar from his jacket.

"Eat," he ordered. "You'll need your strength."

I took it, too shocked to argue.

This man had known me for less than twenty-four hours, and he already knew more about me than Adrian had learned in three years.

The gala was being held at the Castellan Hotel-of course it was. Adrian's family owned half the luxury hotels in the city.

Our car pulled up to the red carpet, and I could see the photographers already gathered. Flashes going off. People everywhere.

"Last chance to back out," Damien said.

I looked at the hotel. Somewhere inside, Adrian was probably laughing with Melissa. Probably celebrating how he'd dodged a bullet with me.

"Drive," I told the driver.

Damien's smile was pure satisfaction.

The car stopped. The door opened.

Damien stepped out first, and the cameras went insane. He was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city-powerful, wealthy, mysterious. Everyone wanted to know who he was dating.

He turned back and offered his hand.

I took it.

The moment I stepped out in that red dress, the noise doubled. Questions shouted from every direction.

"Mr. Cross! Who's your date?"

"Are you two together?"

"Is this your girlfriend?"

Damien ignored them all. He pulled me close, his hand on the small of my back, and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"Smile like you own the world," he said.

So I did.

I smiled like I'd never been broken. Like I'd never cried myself to sleep. Like I was exactly where I belonged.

And then we walked inside.

---

The ballroom was stunning. Crystal chandeliers, live orchestra, champagne towers. Everyone who was anyone in the city was here.

Including Adrian.

I spotted him immediately. He was standing near the bar with Melissa hanging off his arm. She was wearing pink-soft, innocent, everything I wasn't in this red dress.

He hadn't seen us yet.

"There," I murmured to Damien.

"I see him." Damien's hand tightened on my waist. "Remember, you're with me. You're happy. You're in love."

"Right."

"And Emma?" He turned me to face him. "For the next few hours, I need you to pretend I'm the only man in this room. Can you do that?"

I looked up at him. At those impossibly blue eyes. At the sharp jawline and the way he was looking at me like I mattered.

"Yeah," I breathed. "I can do that."

"Good girl."

He led me onto the floor, and we started dancing.

I'd forgotten how good it felt to be held like this. Damien was an excellent dancer-smooth, confident, leading me effortlessly across the floor. His hand was warm on my back. His eyes never left mine.

"You're doing great," he murmured.

"He hasn't noticed us yet."

"He will." Damien spun me, and my dress flared out. "Three... two... one..."

I turned back into his arms.

And locked eyes with Adrian across the room.

His face went white.

Then red.

Then he started walking toward us, dragging Melissa behind him.

"Showtime," Damien whispered.

"Emma."

Adrian's voice cut through the music. Cold. Sharp. Furious.

Damien and I stopped dancing. He kept his arm around my waist, pulling me closer-possessive, protective.

"Adrian," I said, keeping my voice steady. "What a surprise." I said smiling.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His eyes raked over me, over the dress, over Damien's hand on my body. "And with him?"

"I'm attending a charity gala with my fiancé," I said sweetly. "Is that a problem?"

Melissa's jaw actually dropped. "Fiancé?"

Adrian's face had gone from red to almost purple. "You're not engaged."

"Actually, she is." Damien extended his free hand toward Adrian-the picture of politeness. "Damien Cross. I don't believe we've been formally introduced. Oh wait, yes we have. When you tried to steal my company."

Adrian ignored his hand. "This is a joke."

"Our engagement? I assure you, it's very real." Damien pulled me even closer. I could feel his heartbeat against my back-steady, calm. Mine was racing. "Emma said yes three days ago. Didn't she tell you?"

"Three days-" Adrian turned to me. "We were just discussing the divorce three days ago!"

"And I decided I didn't want to sign," I said. The lie came easier than I expected. "Not your version, anyway. My lawyers are drafting something more... appropriate."

"Your lawyers?" Adrian laughed, but it sounded unhinged. "You don't have lawyers. You don't have money. You don't have anything-"

"She has me," Damien interrupted. His voice was still polite, but there was steel underneath. "Which means she has the best legal team in the state. I'd suggest you prepare for a real negotiation, Castellan."

People were starting to stare. Phones were coming out.

Adrian noticed. His jaw clenched. "We need to talk. Privately."

"I don't think so," I said without hesitating.

"Emma" He reached for my arm.

Damien moved faster. He stepped between us, blocking Adrian completely.

"Touch her again," Damien said quietly, "and I'll break your hand."

The ballroom went silent.

Adrian and Damien stared at each other. The tension was suffocating.

"This isn't over," Adrian finally said.

"No," Damien agreed. "It's not. But right now, you're making a scene at your own charity gala. Your mother is watching from the balcony, and she looks very disappointed."

Adrian's eyes flicked up. Sure enough, Mrs. Castellan was watching with a pinched expression.

He stepped back. Straightened his jacket.

"Enjoy your evening," he said through gritted teeth. Then to me: "We will talk about this."

"No," I said. "We won't."

He left, dragging a stunned Melissa with him.

The moment they were gone, my knees almost gave out. Damien caught me.

"Breathe," he murmured into my ear. "You did perfectly."

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"Not in the Valentino dress, you're not." He guided me toward a private balcony, away from the prying eyes. "Come on."

The cool night air hit my face, and I gasped.

"Oh my God," I said. "Oh my God, did that actually just happen?"

I was so proud of myself for starting to overcome Adrian because he's a lot.

"It did." Damien leaned against the railing. "And it was spectacular."

"He looked like he wanted to murder you."

"Good. That means it's working." I smiled.

He pulled out his phone. "The video is already trending on social media. 'Damien Cross's Mystery Fiancée Confronts Her Ex.' You're famous, Emma."

"I don't want to be famous," I said. My hands were shaking. "I just wanted-I don't know what I wanted."

"Yes, you do." Damien pocketed his phone and turned to face me. "You wanted him to see you. To really see you. To realize what he lost."

"Did he?" I asked quietly. "Did he realize?"

"Did you see his face when he looked at you?" Damien stepped closer. "He realized. Trust me."

I closed my eyes. "This is crazy."

"Yes."

"We barely know each other."

"Also yes."

"I'm technically still married to him-"

"Not for long." Damien tilted my chin up. "Look at me."

I did.

"You did so well tonight," he said. "Better than I expected. You didn't break. You didn't cry. You stood there in your red dress and made him see exactly what he threw away."

"I was terrified," I admitted because that's true.

"I know. But you didn't show it." His thumb brushed my cheek. "That's strength, Emma."

The way he was looking at me-like I was something precious, something worth protecting-made my chest ache.

"Why are you really doing this?" I whispered. "It's not just about revenge, is it?"

I knew it wasn't just about the revenge and I looked straight to him to tell me if really it is.

Damien's expression shifted. Something darker crossed his face.

"Adrian Castellan destroyed something that mattered to me," he said quietly. "Not just my company. Something else. Someone else."

"Who?" I asked. I was more curious. I need to know more.

"My sister." His jaw clenched. "Three years ago, Adrian convinced her to invest her trust fund in one of his guaranteed ventures. It was a scam. She lost everything. And when she tried to fight back, when she tried to expose him, he buried her under legal fees and NDAs until she gave up."

My heart sank. "Damien"

"She moved to Europe to escape the shame," he continued. "Haven't seen her in two years. She won't even take my calls." His eyes met mine. "So yes, Emma. This is about revenge. But it's also about justice. Adrian Castellan has hurt too many people. He needs to pay."

I understood now. This wasn't just business. It was personal.

"What happened to your sister," I said, "it won't happen to me. I promise I'll see this through."

"I know you will." He stepped back, giving me space. "Come on. We should get back before people start gossiping."

"Too late for that," I said.

He smiled. "Fair point."

We stayed at the gala for another hour. I could feel Adrian's eyes on me the entire time-watching as Damien introduced me to his business partners, as we danced, as he kept his hand on me like I was something precious.

Every glance, every touch was calculated. And it was working.

When we finally left, the photographers went crazy again. This time, Damien kissed my hand for the cameras. It was chaste, old-fashioned, and somehow more intimate than anything Adrian had ever done.

In the car, I finally let myself collapse.

"How long do we have to keep this up?" I asked.

"Six months," Damien said. "Until the Hartfield merger falls through."

"And then?"

"Then you're free. Five million dollars richer, legally divorced, and you can do whatever you want with your life."

Six months of pretending to be in love with Damien Cross. Six months of driving Adrian crazy.

Six months of being the woman I'd always wanted to be-strong, confident, untouchable.

"Okay," I said. "What's next?"

"Next?" Damien's smile was dangerous. "Next, you move in with me."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"We're engaged, Emma. Engaged couples live together. If you stay in that little apartment, no one will believe this is real."

"I can't just move in with you-"

"You can, and you will." His tone left no room for argument. "My penthouse has five bedrooms. You'll have your own space. Your own bathroom. Complete privacy. But publicly, we need to sell this relationship. Which means you need to be seen coming and going from my place."

He was right. I hated it, but he was right.

"When?" I asked.

"Tomorrow. I'll send movers for your things."

"I barely have any things-"

"Then it'll be quick." He looked at me. "This is happening, Emma. Are you ready?"

Was I ready to move in with a stranger? To pretend to be engaged to him? To face Adrian's wrath for the next six months?

No.

But I was going to do it anyway.

"I'm ready," I said.

Damien's smile was pure satisfaction.

"Welcome to your new life, darling."