Darkly His: The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

Damon's stepgrandmother, stepmom, sister, and aunt sipped tea at the stone table.

Damon, Michael, and Osbourne were talking inside.

Naomi was trying to keep things lively, but Emily kept huffing, snapping, and using her phone.

"I love that you smell so nice also, Merrilyn...." Naomi was saying when Emily interrupted.

"She doesn't really like Damon, does she? Just money. Free sex."

Merry paused, glass to her lip.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, you think I don't know you...?"

"What...?"

"I seriously do not like you. All you whores fawning over my brother."

"Emily!" Naomi exclaimed while Tracy rolled her eyes.

Surprisingly, Merry smiled and sipped her wine before staring Emily back down, eye to eye.

"I don't need your liking, Miss Blackwell and I do not know you. Keep it that way. Don't play with me."

Emily looked defeated but she quipped.

"Too hard to like all you ladies who sleep with my brother, isn't it?"

Merry narrowed her eyes and smiled softly.

"Sounds like a personal issue."

A car door clicked in the driveway.

"That must be Thomas and Jacqueline." Naomi said, tense.

Moments later, Thomas appeared with his wife on his arm, toddlers toddling ahead-one clutching a stuffed reindeer, the other dragging a blanket and a drawing.

"Hi, everyone!" Jacqueline called, radiant in a simple, stylish dress, her California-mom glow effortless.

The women rose, exchanging hugs like a practised ritual.

"You all look lovely," Jacqueline said. "The garden looks especially beautiful today."

Thomas shook Merry's hand and hugged the older women.

The toddlers bolted toward the flowerbeds.

"Derek! Rosa! Don't pick anything!" Jacqueline warned without turning.

Thomas checked his watch. "We won't stay long. I have a call soon."

"And I need to finish my chapter before five," Jacqueline added with a playful roll of her eyes. "Deadlines don't care about Christmas."

Naomi chuckled. "You're still writing?"

"Trying," Jacqueline said, smoothing her hair. "Stop for a day, and I lose rhythm completely."

Merry blinked.

"A good life makes it easier to write, not harder."

Thomas gestured toward the house. "Let's say hi to Damon before he pretends he didn't see us."

"I should join him," Merry said, picking up her wine and meeting Emily's swickedeyes.

Across the garden, the toddlers raced ahead. Damon sat on the patio, laptop open, absorbed in work. Merry curled beside him, watching, studying.

The twins pounced first.

"Hi, UNCLE DAMON! LOOK WHAT WE MADE!"

Damon caught one mid-jump, still focused.

"Easy. I'm working."

Rosa tugged his sleeve, showing a scribbled drawing. Damon gave a tight, amused smile.

Jacqueline swooped in, patting his back. He nodded, then hugged Thomas.

"Okay, okay-let's give him space."

Jacqueline moved the kids smoothly. Merry hid a smile behind her glass.

Jacqueline leaned toward her. "Mind if I borrow you for a minute before we leave?"

"Sure."

They stepped into a quieter corner, sunlight filtered through vines and fairy lights.

"You smell lovely," Jacqueline said, grinning. "Perfect for this weather. And Merry? Your name fits the season. Very on-brand."

Merry blushed. "Thank you."

"Don't mind Emily," Jacqueline added with a wave. "Her mouth outruns her sense most days. Sweetheart... somewhere."

Merry giggled. "Thanks for the tip."

Jacqueline rested against a pergola post. "Heads-up-Damon doesn't like everyone. Especially Naomi. Don't read into his cold shoulders. He's... particular."

Merry nodded. "I'm only here for business."

Jacqueline studied her. "I used to be Thomas' assistant. Stoic men... they bring out something in women-not attraction, just instinct, nurture, patience."

Merry absorbed it.

"So what's Damon's problem?" she asked quietly.

Jacqueline's eyes softened. "Only he can talk about that. I hope he opens up. Nobody knows. But, don't pity him."

Merry frowned. "Is he... sick?"

Before Jacqueline could answer, a sharp voice cut through the garden:

"Merry Steele."

She spun. Damon stood a few steps behind, hands in his pockets, jaw tight. Cold.

"We're leaving," he said. "Sorry, Jacqueline."

Jacqueline gave her a reassuring smile. "Go on. We'll catch up some other time."

They walked back toward the women. Merry thanked them politely.

Naomi Blackwell surprised her with a soft hug.

"Wish you wonderful times, dear."

Merry blinked, smiling awkwardly. "Thanks, ma'am."

Emily scooped up her purse. "Quick date with the girls-heading out." She almost hugged Merry, they both froze and jumped back mid-motion, then hissed. "Fuck you."

Merry rolled her eyes. "Sure."

Emily winked and hurried off.

Damon stood apart, flat, cold impatience written across his face.

Merry cat-walked toward him. Behind her, Jacqueline called the kids, who ran up, hugged his legs, and planted tiny kisses. Damon ruffled their hair, barely softening.

Thomas whistled, and they ran off.

Damon strode ahead into the house. Merry followed.

"Stop glaring at me like I'm not allowed to say goodbye. It's embarrassing!"

No answer.

He kept walking-up the stairs, through silent halls lined with gold, portraits and holiday wreaths.

Merry stopped halfway, fuming. "I'm not moving until you-"

Damon turned, reaching her in two quick strides.

Then, his mouth was on hers before she could speak again. Hard, deep, hungry. Her back hit the wall. His hands caged her hips and caressed her breasts.

Damon was beginning to let her round breasts out of her sweater and bending over, ready to suckle.

Footsteps echoed faintly from the lower floors. Workers. Voices.

Panicked, she tried to push him, fighting away from the kiss.

A familiar kiss that her body had begun to ache for.

"Damon-stop.... Someone will...."

"Do you want it here? " he murmured against her lips, "or in my room?"

"Damon-!"

He didn't wait.

He lifted her effortlessly and carried her into the nearest room, kicking the door shut behind them.

Her heart pounded.

He set her on the bed like she weighed nothing.

His eyes looked troubled.

"You should stay focused on your work only," he growled calmly.

Merry pushed him back and got to her feet but his hand went around her throat, sitting her back on the bed.

"You don't own me." She whispered.

His kiss was rough, and Merry reciprocated.

Pushing and pulling him at the same time letting him pleasure her, letting him grip her wildly.

Clothes peeled off their bodies and soon they were tangled on the soft bed.

Merry tried to focus. Tried to not see images of them in the past. Tangled.

Damon moved inside her.

Hard. Fast.

Emotionlessly.

It was a worried sex. One that seemed like an exciting escape for Damon Blackwell.

When Merry's neck arched in her state of maddening, approaching orgasm, he kissed her throat and she lost it.

Her fingers dug into his shoulder. His grip on her wrist instinctively tightened, pinning her.

"Damon! Oh my god, I'm coming." She cried softly.

"Stay! That's it, Steele. Come for me." He growled.

She did.

His hands, breath, heat, the bed creaking beneath too much emotion packed into too small a space.

When it was over, the silence was heavier than before.

Damon pulled away first.

Merry lay there, chest rising, eyes open, already understanding what this had been.

Not closeness.

Escape.

"We need to leave."