Loving The Devil I Married

DAMIAN

The weight of last night’s events hangs heavily on the four of us as we sit in the opulent bar of my father’s five-star hotel. My friends—Sylvester, Dexter, and Bennie—wear troubled expressions that mirror my own inner conflict.

I glance down at the empty glass in my hand, its hollow stillness reflecting the emptiness I feel inside. The whiskey I downed earlier does little to ease the burden pressing on my chest. Around us, other empty glasses stand as silent witnesses to our desperate attempt to escape the chaos consuming our lives.

We thought we could drown our problems in alcohol, but the night only forced us to confront them. One by one, our secrets spilled out, but instead of relief, we’re left even more entangled in the mess.

Dexter, my closest friend, looks at me with a mix of pity, frustration, and barely hidden anger—our friendship now strained by choices neither of us wanted to make.

“What a fucking night,” Sylvester mutters, breaking the tense silence. His sharp words cut through the room as he runs a hand through his perfectly styled brown hair.

Dexter shifts his focus to Bennie, who seems lost in his own troubled thoughts. “I’m guessing you didn’t sleep any more than the rest of us,” he says knowingly.

Ben doesn’t reply right away. His piercing green eyes meet Dexter’s, and the turmoil behind them speaks louder than words.

“Yeah, that’d be none,” Sylvester interjects bitterly, exhaling sharply. His voice carries a mix of exhaustion and regret.

This morning feels like a cruel joke. What should’ve been a celebration of new beginnings—following my father’s extravagant wedding—has instead turned into a reckoning. Each of us is left grappling with the fallout of four women who’ve upended our carefully controlled lives in ways none of us anticipated.

And outside the walls of this luxury hotel looms an even greater threat. If the tabloids ever caught wind of the truth, they’d have a field day. The heirs of Princetown’s founding families caught in a web of forbidden love, betrayal, and scandal—it’s the kind of story that would sell out every headline.

From the outside, our lives seem perfect. We’re heirs to wealth and power, with polished exteriors that exude privilege. But beneath that surface lies a fragile house of cards, threatening to collapse under the weight of our secrets.

We are the Princetown Heirs.

Sylvester Bennington: a brilliant but troubled artist expected to uphold his family’s legacy, even if it means sacrificing his true passion.

Bennie Pike: a genius destined to inherit an empire of wealth, yet powerless to claim a future with the woman he truly loves.

Dexter Huntington: a man haunted by past mistakes, trapped in a role he never wanted, and forced to give up his own happiness to make amends.

And me—Damian Gunn. Born into privilege and groomed for success, I’m now faced with an impossible choice. My father has arranged for me to marry my best friend’s younger sister to erase his debts and secure his chance at happiness.

But what about me?

Can I go through with this charade of a marriage just to appease my father and ensure my inheritance? Can I marry someone so sweet and exasperating, knowing I’ll break her heart and destroy a twenty-year friendship?

The truth is, I will. Because at the end of the day, I am my father’s son. And love is a luxury I cannot afford.

—

DAISY-BELLE

A Few Days Later

My trembling fingers clutch the Montblanc fountain pen as I stare at the thirty-page contract spread before me. Across the polished walnut desk, Charles Gunn watches me intently, his sharp gaze unwavering. His silver hair is neatly styled, and his tailored suit fits his lean frame with precision. Everything about him exudes authority and control—qualities that make it easy for him to orchestrate an arranged marriage for his son, Damian , with no thought to anyone’s feelings, solely to preserve the Gunn family fortune and legacy.

For a moment, I regret not choosing a more formal outfit. My bright blue dungarees and long-sleeved top with tiny silver stars stitched onto the fabric hardly scream “intimidating.” But I wanted comfort today, especially with my period making everything feel worse. Nothing like a heavy flow to add to the misery of an already dismal day. Still, I doubt my quirky choice of clothing would have swayed Charles’s decision. His mind was made up long before this meeting, and no outfit could convince him that I’m anything but a means to an end.

It doesn’t help that Damian —Charles’s son and my future husband—also happens to be my older brother’s best friend and a man I’ve disliked since childhood. Despite the fact that my late father and Charles were friends, he had no hesitation in manipulating me into this arrangement.

I have my reasons for agreeing, of course. But deep down, we both know that Charles could have forgiven my brother’s debt if he wanted to. A billionaire like him wouldn’t even blink at the loss of eight and a half million pounds. But no, this arrangement was about power, legacy, and control—not generosity.

“Is there an issue, Daisy-Belle ?” Charles’s smooth, authoritative voice cuts through my thoughts. His silver brow arches expectantly as his gaze bores into me.

“No issues. Everything seems to be in order,” I reply, forcing a calmness into my tone I don’t feel. My eyes flick to Damian , who stands with his back to us, his broad shoulders tense as he gazes out at the snow-covered gardens of Highwood Manor.

The truth? I haven’t read a single word of this contract. I don’t need to. All I care about is freeing my brother from his crushing debt so he can be with the woman he loves and escape the dangerous world of enforcing for the families who control this town. Dexter has sacrificed so much for me over the years—it’s my turn to repay him.

And while I have my own complicated reasons for signing this contract, none of that matters right now. I’m willing to marry a man I despise if it means securing my brother’s happiness.

“Good. If there’s nothing else, I’ll let you two discuss your… future,” Charles says, glancing at his gold Rolex as if my time here is already an inconvenience.

“I’m sure you do,” I reply sharply, unable to keep the bite out of my voice.

Damian ’s shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t turn to face me. The winter sunlight streaming through the large window casts a warm glow on his auburn hair, highlighting the rich red and mahogany tones against his deep navy suit. For once, he has no witty comeback, which is just as well—I’m not in the mood for it.

“You’d better get accustomed to the inner workings of this family,” Charles says, his voice laced with authority, “because once you sign that contract, you’ll be expected to act accordingly.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, the sharp taste of blood grounding me as I swallow the resentment bubbling in my chest. This is for Dexter, I remind myself. If this is what it takes to secure his freedom, then I’ll endure it. But if Charles thinks I’ll mold myself into his perfect vision of a Gunn daughter-in-law, he’s sorely mistaken. I might be agreeing to this marriage, but I’m not about to lose myself in the process.

“Of course,” I reply tersely, pressing the fountain pen to the paper. My hand shakes slightly as I sign my name, knowing this single moment will alter my life forever. From now on, I am Damian ’s fiancée, and in just over six weeks, I’ll be his wife.

“There,” I say, setting the pen down and sliding the contract back toward Charles.

He nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he signals to Damian . “Son, your turn.”

Damian turns and strides to the desk without sparing me a glance. His presence feels heavier as he leans over to sign the document, his arm brushing mine briefly. The touch is warm, but it’s as fleeting as the bond we’re being forced into. With a quick flourish, he signs his name.

“It’s done,” he says gruffly, straightening up.

“Excellent.” Charles’s grin widens as he turns his attention back to me. “You’ll move into Highwood Manor in a week. That should give you plenty of time to pack your belongings and say your goodbyes.”

“A week?” I gasp, the timeline catching me off guard.

“It’s in the contract,” Charles replies smoothly. “And a week after your arrival, I’ll host a party to officially announce your engagement. Naturally, your brother, his lady friend, and her son are welcome—assuming, of course, she chooses to stay. It must be quite a challenge for her, knowing how he ended up in such debt.”

“Dexter, Lia, and Toby will be there,” I snap, my tone sharper than I intended.

“Of course they will,” Charles replies, the smirk never leaving his face.

“They can be happy now. No thanks to you,” I add, my glare burning into him.

Charles chuckles, a low, dismissive sound. “I think you’ll find it’s entirely thanks to me. Everyone benefits from this arrangement, don’t they? Dexter is free of his debt. Damian secures his inheritance. I ensure the Gunn legacy continues. And you, my dear, gain a very luxurious lifestyle as my son’s wife.”

“I don’t care about a luxurious lifestyle,” I retort. “I’ll continue working at the hotel and earning my own money. I might have to live here, but I refuse to live off my husband’s wealth.”

“My wealth,” Charles corrects with a pointed smile. “Damian will manage the hotel until you’ve fulfilled your primary duty—producing an heir. Page 21, clause seven. Once you’re married, you’ll no longer be a hotel receptionist. It wouldn’t be fitting for my daughter-in-law, even if it’s at my hotel.”

The blood drains from my face as I stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “But—”

“No buts,” Charles interrupts smoothly. “You signed the contract. You’ve agreed to the terms.”

I whip my head toward Damian , disbelief flooding through me. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s all in black and white,” Damian replies coolly, his tone devoid of emotion.

“You pig,” I spit, anger flaring.

Charles chuckles again, clearly amused by my reaction. “Most women would be thrilled to be cared for in such a way. You should consider yourself lucky.” He gathers the signed contract and locks it away in his desk. “Now, I assume you drove yourself here?” He gestures toward the door in a dismissive manner.

I push my chair back, more than ready to leave, but Damian ’s hand lands on my shoulder, halting me. “I’d like a word with Daisy-Belle before she goes,” he says, his tone firm.

I shrug off his touch, the warmth of his hand lingering against my skin as I stand.

“Take your fiancée for a walk around the grounds if you must,” Charles says, already turning his attention to his laptop.

Fiancée.

The word echoes in my mind, its weight settling on my chest as the reality of my situation becomes undeniable. Part of me wants to run, but there’s nowhere to go. This is my life now.