Devon didn’t sleep the night he returned home.

He had tried, God, he had tried. But no amount of warm showers or herbal tea could undo the events of that night or silence the memory of lips he couldn’t forget. Every time he closed his eyes, flashes returned: the man’s breath hot on his skin, their bodies tangled beneath hotel sheets, the rush and shame bleeding into one another like ink in water.

Now, three days later, he sat on the edge of his bed, fully dressed in a navy button-down and slacks, staring blankly at his phone. No texts. No missed calls. No strange numbers.

A relief. Supposedly.

He’d combed through his device multiple times, just in case. The contact list was clean. Deleted messages: nothing unusual. His wallet had all its contents, his cards untouched, his wristwatch unscathed. Whoever the man was—he’d vanished cleanly, like a ghost who’d only borrowed the night.

But the ghost had left a mark.

Devon rose, crossing to the tall window that overlooked the Hamilton estate’s eastern lawn. Sunlight streaked across the trimmed hedges and gravel walkways, where gardeners moved with quiet purpose. Everything about this place screamed order, perfection, and legacy.

Legacy. That word again.

He rested his forehead against the glass. In forty-eight hours, he would be engaged. To Anabelle Lawson. A woman he barely knew beyond rehearsed smiles and polite conversation. She was beautiful, sure. Cultured. Daughter of a man his father respected—a rare feat in itself. But none of that changed the truth: Devon had no idea who he was supposed to be when he stood beside her.

A loyal fiancé?

A Hamilton heir?

A man who woke up tangled in hotel sheets with another man?

He shut his eyes tightly.

“This didn’t mean anything,” he whispered aloud. “It was a mistake.”

That night had been about rebellion, about escaping his father’s expectations, about losing himself in something reckless and stupid. It hadn’t been about desire. Or identity. Or anything deeper than the bitter taste of whiskey and the heat of skin against skin.

But deep down, Devon knew better.

It wasn’t the physical act that haunted him. It was the way he had responded to it. How easily it had all happened. How natural it had felt. That terrified him more than the possibility of scandal or exposure.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Devon?” came Mrs. Pearl’s voice, muffled but warm. “Breakfast is ready.”

He cleared his throat. “Coming.”

The dining room was quiet when he entered. Mrs. Pearl had already laid out breakfast, French toast, scrambled eggs, berry preserves. His father wasn’t there, of course. Mr. Hamilton rarely joined meals unless there was someone to impress or berate.

Devon sat down and picked at his food.

Mrs. Pearl hovered nearby, wiping her hands on her apron. “You’ve been quiet lately,” she said gently. “Is it the party?”

He offered a faint smile. “Something like that.”

She paused, then walked over and touched his shoulder lightly. “Whatever it is, don’t carry it alone, dear.”

He glanced up at her, grateful for the words, but unsure how to respond. If she knew… God, if anyone knew…

“I’ll be fine,” he said instead. “Thank you.”

By late afternoon, the house was a flurry of movement. Caterers arrived for the engagement party walkthrough. Florists delivered massive arrangements of cream roses and eucalyptus branches. A string quartet rehearsed in the main hall. Staff bustled between the kitchen and ballroom, setting up polished silverware and crystal flutes.

Devon wandered the estate like a ghost in his own home.

He passed through the library, the solarium, the west hall, all places he’d known since childhood, feeling like a stranger everywhere he turned. Everyone else seemed excited for the big day. Only he carried the weight of pretending.

When he passed the mirror in the gallery hallway, he paused.

His reflection stared back: tall, composed, expensively dressed.

He looked like his father.

The thought chilled him.

That night, he stood on the balcony outside his bedroom, watching the moon rise above the Hamilton gardens. His phone sat beside him on the stone ledge. Silent. Still nothing.

He told himself again that this was a good thing.

There were no calls, no consequences, zero messes to clean up.

But there however was a strange tightness in his chest, one he couldn’t name. Could be regret, or maybe longing. Or even just the aching knowledge that what he wanted—what he truly wanted—had never been his to want in the first place.

He took a long breath and then picked up his phone.

He almost texted Anabelle. Just to say something, anything. But what would he even write?

> “Looking forward to the engagement?”

Felt too hollow.

> “We should talk.”

This one was kinda too serious.

> “Do you even want this?”

Too honest.

And in the end, he locked the phone and set it back down.

A breeze swept across the balcony, and Devon closed his eyes, letting it brush against his face like a whisper.

In a few days time, he would be standing under crystal chandeliers, surrounded by applause and praise. He would smile, take Anabelle’s hand, and pretend like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

And he would forget the stranger. He had to.

One Week.

One week had gone past since the incident at the hotel, but still he hadn't received any strange texts or calls from an unknown caller.

Devon felt a bit relaxed now, knowing that the stranger from the bar— whoever he was, had no way to contact him. Because if he did, he most definitely would have contacted him by now, making one reckless demand or the other due to his status.

"Happy birthday, Devon." A middle-aged woman said, as she approached him, along with her husband.

Today was indeed his long awaited 26th year birthday, and also the engagement ceremony of him and Anabelle Lawson.

Father had thrown a lavish party to celebrate it— one too lavish for his liking however, and had invited a reasonable amount of highly reputable guests from the business world. Some of the city's politicians and some government officials were also in attendance too.

"I brought you a gift." She added, showing him a relatively small rectangular box, before extending her hands to hug Devon.

"Mrs. Caspian," Devon said as he too stretched out his hands to hug the lady in front of him. "Are they the usual?"

"You bet they are," She said curling her lips, as if she was speaking to some little child. "You know your aunty never misses."

"Oh, of course I do." Devon replied and they all laughed.

"Happy birthday once again, and happy engagement. Anabelle is such a good girl, how come you never mentioned her to me?" She said lightly slapping his arm. "Anyways, you made a very beautiful choice."

Devon could do nothing both smile when she made that statement. They all thought that his soon to be wife had been his choice? He thought.

"Yah! Happy birthday, lad." Her husband said smiling, with his unmistakable Irish ascent as he too stretched out a present to Devon.

"And of course, engagement." He added, as he hugged Devon, patting him on the back as he did.

"Thank you, Mr. Caspian. I am more than honoured."

"Oh please..! How many times do I have to tell you? It's Andrew." He said smiling then turned to leave but then returned almost immediately as if he had forgotten something important, holding a finger up as he did.

"And oh! Welcome to the hell." He whispered with a wink before leaving.

Devon didn't get the joke at first, there were too many things crowding his mind at the moment, so he just feigned a laugh. But when he did get the joke some moments later, he laughed harder.

How ironic? He thought.

This was indeed what he was walking into at the moment— Hell. He was about to be married to some 'beautiful' girl picked and arranged for him, by his dear beloved father. A girl he knew nothing about, except from the fact that her family was wealthy— well, barely as wealthy as they were.

Oh, wow! He knew two things about her, not just one.

He scanned the large room for his father— considering he was standing right in the middle of the hall, Like some goods on display, waiting to be sold to the right buyer, and saw him standing at a corner with some guests.

Everyone gathered here was either his father's business associate or a person of importance, all there to witness not his birthday, but his engagement to a Lawson - an arrangement to strengthen the two families.

Such unions, whether arranged or otherwise, brought families closer together. He reckoned.

Currently, he was surrounded by a mountain of gifts in various sizes, wrapped in colorful paper, the accumulation of presents he'd received since the evening began."

Just then, he saw Madame Evelyn Carter coming his way, her son walking together with her as she did. Hands interlocked in a couple-like manner, with a bigger man who wearing sunglasses behind the pair.

"Oh, Devon!" She said kissing him by the cheeks. "Happy birthday.

"This is your 26th, am I correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Devon replied, smiling.

"Ah! How fast you little ones grow, these days." She said with a chuckle. And oh! Where is your fiancée?"

"S—she must be around somewhere." Devon stuttered, obviously having no idea of where Anabelle was.

"Oh, poor thing. I had hope to see her." She said fanning herself. "Anyways, I will be taking my leave now. Got some business to take care of. Stop by the mansion sometime, would you?"

"Most definitely, Ma'am. I would."

"See you around then?" Bryan said, before turning to leave with his mother.

"Yeah, see you around." Devon replied.

"And before I forget," Madame Evelyn said, stopping midway. "The gray Porsche parked outside is yours. Don't go crashing her within a week, I know how you boys can get with cars." And with that she left graciously.

Devon couldn't help but smile as she did.

Well... that was enough standing for today. He needed to get a drink now. After all, today was his birthday and also his engagement to one of the most beautiful women in the city.

He walked down to the pub area where a live jazz band was and then ordered for a glass of wine. The musical band, a quartet with a cello, viola, and two violins, was playing a lively rendition of 'Fly Me to the Moon'.

Taking the glass of wine, he scanned the area once more. The smooth, soulful notes filled the air, mingling with the hum of conversation and clinking glasses.

Where was she? He thought, one hand in his pockets, the other holding the glass of Château Lafite Rothschild from which he took a sip.

Anabelle had indeed been with him earlier that evening, but had left after a while.

"Happy engagement." He heard someone say some metres away, with a "Thank you very much." accompanying it.

He turned to face the direction which the compliment had came from and he saw her. Dressed in a simple yet, beautifully tailored black dress, walking graciously towards him.

She was... beautiful, indeed. He thought, as he took another sip from his glass. He also noticed someone else with her, as she approached.

There were applauds from the crowd, as the live musical band finished their presentation, and he too turned to clap for them.

"Hey," Anabelle whispered amidst the clapping, on getting to where he stood, causing him to turn to her.

"Hey." He replied turning to her.

"Sorry, I was gone for long."

"It—it's totally fine, honestly." Devon responded as took another sip from the glass, still staring at her.

"Uhh... ok...." She replied, clearly she had expected to be a bit angry when she returned, but he wasn't. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah." Devon replied, nodding his head in agreement. "Yeah, I am."

"Ok. Well... meet my brother, then." She said shifting to the side to reveal the person standing behind her.

Devon almost choked on his wine when he saw who it was. Was this some kind of joke? He thought.

"Damian, meet Devon. Devon... Damian." She continued, her voice smooth as silk.

Right in front of him stood the man he'd met at the bar that fateful night. And what's more? He was his fiancée's brother.

"Hello, Devon." Damian said smiling, as he extending a handshake to him. "Nice to meet you...

...For the first time."

"Hi... Nice to meet you. For the first time." Damian said extending his right hand towards Devon for a handshake, with a smile which could easily be mistaken for a grin.

Devon stood right there, visibly stunned. This right here was the man he had met at the bar - his fiancée's brother, of all people.

This was a man he had wished to never come across again, with those almost amused curved lips of his. A man whose presence he couldn't seem to resist.

Damian's chiseled features and piercing eyes sparkled with amusement as he smiled, his sharp jawline and perfectly sculpted lips making the gesture undeniably captivating

Heart racing, Devon could really do nothing but stand there and stare at him. He couldn't take this handshake, he wouldn't, for the fear of himself. He wasn't sure he could control himself if he eventually touched him.

But then, Anabelle was here. Standing right beside them, waiting for him to take her brothers handshake. He couldn't refuse it. Atleast not now, in the presence of the woman he would be getting married to soon.

He couldn't allow her to suspect a thing, and so, he took the handshake.

"Yeah... nice to meet you," he said, his voice trailing off as he struggled to recall the name, "sorry, what was it again?" He asked, attempting to brush off the sudden jolt of electricity he felt as Damian's hands touched his."

"Damian." Damian said smiling, seeing the effect of his touch on him.

"Damian..." Devon repeated, like a child trying to pronounce a new word he recently came across.

For a moment or two, the pair stood there, smiling at each other although Devon was faking his. Then managing to get his hand off Damian's grip, he withdrew his hand.

He returned to his wine while he turned to face another direction, pretending to be paying attention to whatever was happening there.

Noticing the atmosphere, Anabelle who was a bit lost asked a question.

"Uhh...You two know each other?"

"No!' they said in unison, their eyes locking as they turned to each other. Devon quickly averted his gaze, the brief moment of eye contact enough to make him uncomfortable.

That was weird. She thought. Why were these two acting strange all of a sudden.

"Ok, that was totally weird. Cause it seems like you two know each." She pressed further.

"Nah!!" Devon replied almost immediately. "Definitely not."

She looked at her brother who was currently sipping from a glass, and he just shrugged.

Well, boys... What do I know? She thought.

"Ok..." She replied, smiling cheerfully, not wanting to stretch the matter any further. Just then, Damian's phone vibrated.

"Sorry I have to take this. Excuse me." He said to his sister, then left, leaving her with Devon.

The both stood silently for a while, after Damian's departure. Then after some time, Devon spoke up, wanting to take his mind away from Damian.

"So... Anabelle." Devon started after a momentary sip from his glass. "Business or Politics?"

"Oh my God." She said almost laughing. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah." Devon replied, also smiling. "Yeah, it is."

"You gotta be kidding me.. and here I thought—" She continued.

"Chill out. For real." Devon cut in immediately. "It's not really that obvious, I just happen to have certain super powers."

Anabelle couldn't really help but laugh at Devon's last words.

Damn! This girl was insanely, beautiful. He thought again, smiling as she chuckled.

"So... which one is it?"

"Ok..." She started. "Well, I earned my BSc Hons in Business and Politics from Aston University, followed by an MBA from the EADA Business School in Barcelona."

"Wow, That's very impressive." Devon said genuinely, as even he had not expected such level of education from her.

"Thank you." She responded. "I am most honoured." she added with a curtsy.

Just then, Damian walked in.

"Sorry Anna, but I'll be leaving now." He said. "You know how it is." He added before proceeding to hug her.

"Here, for the birthday boy." He added, as he left a small box on Devon's palm. And with that, he left.

"You sure you're okay?" Anabelle asked again, sensing the sudden change in the atmosphere.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I? I'm getting engaged to one of the most beautiful women in the city." He said, with a hint of pride and adoration in his voice.

Anabelle blushed, and the pair fell into a comfortable silence.

"Here, I got you something. Happy birthday." Anabelle said after sometime, unveiling a small box on one of her palms. Devon dropped his glass on the counter, then reached out for it.

"I do hope that the future CEO of Mercury Technologies, find my present appealing." Anabelle added, smiling as she handed over a small box to Devon.

"Ah! A gift for me?" Devon asked, feigning his surprise.

"Of, course." Anabelle said, "What do you take me for, a witch with no conscience?" she asked laughing.

Devon also laughed.

"Because our marriage is an arranged one, doesn't mean I won't get to know you better."

"Well, if that's the case. I also have a gift for you." Devon said.

Surprised, Anabelle turned around to face him. "For real?"

"Yes!" Devon replied, "The night is our night, so i shouldn't be the only one receiving presents."

"Oh!" Anabelle, exclaimed softly. "How thoughtful of you?"

Devon carefully brought out a delicate, thin necklace crafted from pure gold, its intricate design featuring a small, exquisite flower-shaped pendant that sparkled in the light.

"Can i?" He asked gesturing for her to turn so he can fix it for her.

"Oh, yes please." She said almost immediately as she turned around to back Devon, moving her her out of the way for him to effectively wear her the necklace.

Her skin.. her skin felt so delicate. Devon couldn't help but think as he wore her the necklace.

"There." He said.

She then turned around to face Devon, smiling as she did.

It almost felt real. Almost felt natural.

The girl in front of him was stunning, her beauty captivating. Damian, too, was a vision of handsomeness, his chiseled features accentuated by those alluring lips.

And before he knew it, he was already thinking of Damian, again. Then after some time, he heard Anabelle speak up.

"Come on. You don't have to pretend anymore." Anabelle said as she hit his shoulder.

"Sorry, what?" He said, as he returned to full consciousness.

"Yeah, you don't have to pretend anymore...

...after all, I know what happened."