The Angel And The Bastard

Chapter 13 - Damien

Damien

I'm sitting across from Iris in her father's cavernous, modern dining room, I drum my fingers against the edge of the polished mahogany table, resisting the urge to laugh.

She's holding a stack of papers that looks as dense as a pre-nup, and from her narrowed eyes, I get the sense she's in no mood to appreciate my usual charm.

"So," I say, trying to hide my grin, "this is what you wanted to go over. Terms. Of the 'fake relationship.'"

She leans in, her gaze steady, voice low but edged with purpose. "Look, Damien, I know you're not in this for charity. I get it. And I'm not asking you to play the devoted boyfriend without something in return. If you agree to this, I can offer you connections, power, and money. My family has... resources, and I can make sure you get access to them. All you have to do is stand by my side, play the role convincingly, and get through this with me. Think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement."

I can't say I'm doing this for the money or connections.

Hell, I'm doing this because it's far more entertaining than my usual life.

But sure, let's call it a deal.

"I help you with your little escape plan,and you make sure I come out ahead. "I say.

Fair enough.

Iris nods, dead serious, and slides the stack of papers over. "Yes. And if you're going to be part of this... arrangement, there are rules."

I pick up the stack, flipping through the pages like they're some relic from a bygone era. "A contract. You really are thorough, Angel."

Her expression doesn't soften in the slightest. "Yes, Damien. A contract." She pauses, crossing her arms. "I don't trust you not to mess this up or decide you want to embarrass me for your own amusement."

I put a hand to my chest, feigning offense. "You really think I'd put my own entertainment over keeping up appearances?"

Her raised eyebrow says everything,she's so cute when she's mad.

I smirk. "I'll be on my best behavior, then. So, what's in the contract?"

"Start with page three. That's where the terms are outlined."

I clear my throat, reading aloud for effect. "'Clause one: No romantic involvement with anyone outside of the relationship while it is active.'" I raise my eyebrows. "Does this mean you're forbidding me from all other pleasures of the flesh?"

She glares at me, unamused. "If you're going to be pretending to be in love with me, it would help if the tabloids don't catch you stumbling out of a club with someone else on your arm."

"Understood," I say, enjoying her barely-restrained irritation. "What else?"

"Clause two: Appearances together at least twice a week. You can choose the locations. The press needs photos of us actually looking like a couple."

"Oh, I do enjoy the freedom of choice," I say, grinning. "How generous of you."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a glint of something in them—maybe reluctant amusement, or maybe the beginnings of some plan I haven't yet figured out.

"Clause three," she continues, "no physical displays of affection unless necessary for appearances."

"Ah, no random kisses or hand-holding," I say, nodding sagely. "Got it."

"Good," she says, and I think I hear her mutter something like "not that I'd want to anyway" under her breath.

I smirk, leaning back in the chair. "Alright, so I follow the rules, we play the part, and everyone believes in this fairy tale romance. Anything else?"