Chapter 323: Rich People Have the Weirdest Problems

For a few seconds, Damien stood in silence, not saying a word. He just looked at me, his hand resting softly on the back of my neck.

I found myself waiting for an answer that suddenly felt like the most important thing in the world.

He kept his eyes locked on mine, then he sighed "Isabella Sommers is an actress from a family my father is affiliated with."

I blinked in surprise...I stared at him, not fully understanding. "That’s it?"

His mouth twitched slightly. "That’s just the beginning of the explanation."

"Okay, good, because for a moment, I thought you might’ve skipped the part about how she apparently has a wedding invitation with your name on it already."

He looked genuinely amused. "I’m pretty sure my mother had one made up."

"That’s not funny, asshole."

"I get it."

The amusement faded from his face, then he took my hand and led me back toward the living room, but we didn’t sit down. Instead, we stood near the couch while he slowly explained something that had clearly been part of his life for years.

"My family has known the Sommers family for a long time. Isabella’s family has ties in entertainment, business, and politics. The Lockwoods have always wanted to keep those connections strong."

I crossed my arms. "And Isabella?"

"She became the obvious choice."

"For what?"

"For my family."

I was stunned. "For you to marry?"

"Yes."

I let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Of course. Why wouldn’t your family just choose who you should marry? It’s practically a Lockwood tradition."

His expression grew serious. "They started suggesting it years ago."

"Before me?"

"Yes, but...I thought since they knew I didn’t like girls, they wouldn’t go through with it." He said with an exhale. "But I guess I underestimated them."

That realization made me feel both better and worse at the same time.

Fucking Lockwoods...

I should have never let Damien go back to the family full of dickheads.

"So when I saw those articles..."

"Most of them were encouraged." He replied.

My stomach dropped. "What?"

"The media loved the idea of us together. My family never really confirmed anything, but they also didn’t deny it. They let the rumors keep going because it was good for business."

I was taken aback. "So everyone thought you were dating her?"

"Yes."

"But you weren’t?"

"No."

"Not even in secret?"

His eyebrows knit together. "Sunshine."

"I have to ask."

"I know." He said as he stepped closer to me. "There was never anything romantic between us."

I looked into his eyes, searching for the truth. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

He spoke so firmly that some of the tension in my chest eased.

"Not when the cameras were on," I said quietly. "What...what about when they were off?"

"Never." His answer was immediate.

"We stood together at events because my family wanted pictures. We sat next to each other at dinners because it looked good for the company.

And during interviews, people asked about our friendship, and my mom would encourage vague answers to keep the rumors alive."

He shook his head. "But when the cameras were off, Isabella and I were never together."

I swallowed hard. "What about the proposal?"

"My mom wants an engagement because she thinks it would help the company."

"And Isabella?"

"She knows what my family wants."

"Does she want it?"

Damien hesitated for a moment. "I don’t know."

That took me by surprise.

"You don’t?"

"We’ve never really talked about it, and I was obvious that she wasn’t really that interested in talking about it."

I looked at our hands. "And now they’re pushing you too to get together."

"Yes."

In this moment, he wasn’t talking like a CEO.

He was talking like someone who had spent four years being controlled by those who should have cared for him.

"They want you to come back," I said.

"Eventually, yes."

"And the engagement is part of that?"

"They’re trying to make it part of that."

I looked at him closely. "Are you going?"

"No." He said, "I might have to return to the city eventually because of responsibilities I can’t ignore forever, but I’m not going back just because they want me to, and I’m definitely not going back to marry Isabella."

I breathed out slowly. "You really mean that?"

His expression softened. "I’ve said no more times than I can count."

"But they keep asking."

"They’ve always believed that if they put enough pressure on me, I’ll eventually give in."

I let out a humorless laugh. "That sounds familiar."

He looked at me and I instantly regretted saying it. But he didn’t get angry. Instead, he took my hand again. "I didn’t come back just to be taken away from you."

My throat tightened. "I know."

"Do you?"

I locked eyes with him as his thumb slid over my knuckles.

"I need you to trust me." He spoke.

"I want to."

"You can."

I shook my head. "It’s not that easy."

"I know."

My eyes stung. "I waited so long for you. I kept thinking you’d walk through the door. Eventually, I stopped waiting because I thought if I kept doing it, I’d never really live... I can’t count how many times my dad and my father’s kept fucking telling me that over and over again."

My voice cracked at the admission and I quickly looked away, embarrassed by the tears threatening to spill. I was a grown man for crying out loud!

"I don’t want to become that person again."

Damien stepped closer and I tried to wipe my face before he noticed, but he gently caught my wrist. "Oliver."

"I was empty." The words slipped out before I could think. "For so long, I just felt... so empty. I went to work, took care of Dad and went through school. I talked to people, laughed. Did everything I was supposed to do for a person my age."

My chest tightened. "But there was always this part of me waiting for something that never came."

Damien’s eyes filled with pain.

"And then you came back." I laughed weakly. "Of course you did."

His hand moved to my cheek.

"And now I’m scared." I whispered.

"You don’t need to be."

"I’m scared I’ll wake up one morning and you won’t be here anymore."

"You won’t."

"I’m worried your family will find a way to pull you back."

"They won’t."

"You can’t promise that!"

"I can promise I’ll fight them." His voice was quiet but resolute. "I didn’t have a choice four years ago, because they could control every aspect of my life. I do now."

I looked at him intently.

"I spent four years without you," he continued. "I know what it feels like to wake up day after day knowing the person you love isn’t there."