Darkly His: The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée
WARNING ⚠️: This book contains sex scenes and mature contents not fit for readers below 18+.
If you love steamy romances and emotional stories, this book is the one.
By day, Damon follows her rules in the kitchen: chopping, kneading, burning his fingers, and surviving her sharp mouth.
By night, she follows his.
Damon Blackwell is a cold, dangerous billionaire who hates Christmas, women, and anything that smells like joy. Haunted by tragedy and trauma, and memories of the girl he once loved and lost, he lives like a machine: money, control, and pleasure without attachment.
Then his grandparents and three ruthless brothers dare him to do the impossible:
Live like a normal man for 12 days to Christmas: no staff, no luxuries, no protection, no control and no bad temper. He has to change and be easygoing with investors.
Fail, and he loses the biggest business deal of his life.
Indulgence is over for him.
The only place Damon knows he can grab survival? A small-town Christmas cooking competition hosted by that one woman who broke his heart years ago.
Merry Steele never expected to see Damon again. The man she left without a word. The man who haunted her dreams after she broke his heart back now stands in her kitchen offering a deal she can't refuse:
Cook for him. Sleep with him. Pretend to be his fiancée until the end of the year.
The pay is tempting. The temptation is even greater.
Before Christmas, can they resist the heat, desire, and lingering love they once shared and keep it strictly business?
As family obligations, enemies, and a high-profile Christmas ball close in, Damon and Merry must correct old heartbreak, passion, and dangerous feelings.
Will Damon ever forgive his fuckmate?
Can Merry resist the billionaire who once stole her heart... or will old flames burn hotter than ever under the snow, the lights, and the Christmas feelings?
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Chapter 3
She won the local cooking competition again.
Merry Steele was still smiling as she finished thanking the townspeople for their support and for choosing her kitchen again.
She hoped this win would finally revive her failing Merry's Kitchen. Rumors had been killing her business, and she needed every set of eyes and mouths in that crowd.
She stepped down the wooden staircase behind the podium while her friend and co-host, Samantha, continued speaking in that forever-loud voice of hers.
She looked at her bank statement and frowned, pushing a hand into her hair with fear.
She needed fresh air.
Merry didn't make it past two steps when she froze.
Her breath died.
Holy Christ...
Standing right in front of her was Damon Blackwell. Dark, dangerous and devastatingly handsome. His sculpted face, his sharp jaw, those cold blue eyes that always saw too much.
Two bulky men in dark suits stood on either sides of him, though he looked like the only protection they needed.
Damon stood tall and proud, but he looked surprised too.
Of course, there was enough to surprise him.
By seeing how his eyes quickly flickered to her bosom and down, Merry knew he had also acknowledged that she'd gotten curvier through their years apart.
He didn't waste time.
Just gave a wry smile that didn't reach his eyes and said:
"Talk?"
Her voice had disappeared, but her body didn't. She nodded and followed him before her pride kicked in and she matched his long strides.
"We can talk here," she said sharply.
He stopped. Turned. Amused.
A single look and his guards retreated even though they didn't stand far.
Merry crossed her arms.
"What do you want, Mr... Blackwell?"
His face hardened.
Dauntless and angered at realizing he was trying to make her feel nervous, she looked him straight up in those deep blue eyes and for a moment, he was surprised she could dare. He continued.
"Miss Steele, I'm here with an offer."
He paused.
"Your kitchen is going down, I hear." he said lightly.
Silence.
"I'll take that as a yes. I'm glad to confirm you're good at what you do, so I want you as my cook. It comes with perks. You will also pretend to be my fiancée..." His eyes dipped to her mouth. "...and you'll be my fuckmate until December 31st."
The world went quiet.
Merry looked away from his face, her heart beating like a wardrum.
Her mind was going berserk with thoughts.
Crazy thoughts and then she realized....
She was heating up and sexual thoughts swamped her mind.
He'd only said the word FUCKMATE and....
Was it the way he said it or....?
Was it the whole idea of it?
She forced her voice steady.
"What made you think-?"
"You need the money," he cut in.
"Don't." She glared. "Go away from me."
"The pay is a hundred thousand dollars a week. I expect your answer at ten in the morning."
"Damon, I hate you."
"You'll need to decide on that also. But I don't give you leave to. If there's anyone who should be hating the fuck out of the other person...." His voice was beginning to increase but he paused and internally corrected himself.
He only sent her a humorless smile and stepped back, straightening.
He turned and walked away, ignoring the crowd, moving like a man no one dared touch.
Merry stood trembling, lips quivering, trying not to fall apart.
Samantha saw everything and stormed toward her, heels clacking, her chest banging.
"Holy hell, Merry! What.... what does Damon Blackwell want? How did he find you? Oh my god....I'm not very good at calming you down but that was your campus...."
Samantha couldn't even finish for her lips rounded in an 'O'.
Merry wiped her mouth and ran a shaky hand through her hair. Samantha guided her to the porch swing-her place of calm.
"Sam... Damon wants me to be his cook."
Samantha blinked. "Father lord- What does that even mean?"
Merry explained quickly, voice uneven.
Samantha shook her head and took Merry's shoulders, squeezing gently.
"This is insane, Merry. Fucking crazy but listen. Think with your heart and your brain. If you want it, you choose it. If not, walk away. You know who you are, girl."
"I'm ashamed to know I want to but.... Why did he find me? Why did he meet me in particular? What does he want with me?"
But Merry couldn't say what scared her most-the spark between them that came alive the second she saw him, or her fear that he didn't feel it too.
Dangerous chemistry rushed back. His hands. His mouth. The memories she had buried for years.
And then a slow smile curled on her lips.
"Of course," she whispered. "I'd love to find out."
****
****
Merry parked outside H-E-B, stomped out her cigarette, and walked in to the pharmacy aisle. She reached for three boxes of Durex condoms without shame, paid, and strutted out.
People stared. She didn't care.
Her dress was shorter. Her heels higher. Her mind set.
She couldn't stop imagining Damon naked.
She knew exactly what he was doing-but she could control her feelings. This was just a game.
And she would win.
She got into her car humming softly, adrenaline and lust mixing in her blood.
She was ready.
Merrillyn zoomed off.
Ready to face Damon Blackwell.
Ready to shock him.
Ready to drown him.
****
****
She gave small smiles to the staffs who stared at her. Only courtesy made them look away and mind their businesses.
Of course, she was breathtakingly hot.
Secretaries and receptionists were everywhere.
Merry stepped past the BLACKBYTE reception desk and caught a few lingering stares from the staff.
It was precisely 10:00am when the secretary finished recording Merry's information and calling Mr Blackwell.
The blonde lady then showed Merry the elevator that would take her to floor 67. She then informed Merry that the door opposite the elevator was where she would be directed to and an assistant would help her.
She explained that floor 67 was the waiting room for visitors and Mr Blackwell would pick her there.
Merry nodded and turned only to see Damon Blackwell casually striding past. Their eyes met and Damon stared her down like she was some unwanted air.
Merry didn't mind.
Taking the cue, Merry walked after him.
With the help of his personal key card, they were heading for executive floor 70.
Merry raised her chin and looked at him.
"You seem very eager for me."
"As I said, you're likely going to make a good cook."
"Likely." She said, dryly. "You came yesterday with more polished words. They caught me unawares."
Silence.
"You shouldn't have worn what you're wearing." Damon said and looked at her.
She looked him squarely on the face.
"You elaborated the nature of the business, didn't you?" She asked, softly and touched his arm.
He looked up at the dark, nearly-invisible elevator ceiling.
She knew she was scaring him and nostalgia hit her.
A memory of them talking about how they saw the future where she'd touched his arm, asked him if they'd be together after graduation-in that soft voice -and he'd stared up at nothing and she'd laughed it off.
Now, she had a gentle hand on his arm and it seemed to take same immediate effect which he clearly didn't like.
"Billionaire, you need a woman, huh?" She cooed. "What for?"
"And you shouldn't be touching me, Miss Steele."
"Why so?"
"We've not concluded. You need to keep the good impression."
"I meant, why do you keep everything so friggin' official, Blackwell? Yeah, you'll pay but I'd be happy if you dropped the whole "missy" thing."
He looked at her now and his eyes were dark with anger.
At that, he grabbed her hand off his arm and pinned her back to the wall.
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8.6
It was my birthday, but instead of celebrating, I was bleeding on the floor of my own bedroom. My sister Serena had just smashed a champagne bottle over my legs, her eyes filled with a dark madness because our father allowed me to wear the family diamonds.
To escape her, I bolted into a pitch-black guest suite, only to be grabbed by a man who felt like a wall of solid muscle. He was drugged, unstable, and pinned me against the wall, his teeth sinking into my neck in a primal claim that left a permanent mark.
I managed to flee, but the nightmare was just beginning. My father didn't care about my injuries; he only cared that I had "insulted" the man in that room—Delos French, the most powerful CEO in New York. He threatened to stop paying for my mother’s critical care facility unless I went to Delos and begged for his forgiveness.
My brother Julian was even worse, intentionally pouring scalding coffee over my bandaged wounds just to see me flinch. They forced me into a revealing gold dress, treating me like a high-priced commodity to be sold to the highest bidder to save their failing company.
I didn't understand how the people who were supposed to love me could be more predatory than the monster in the dark. I had spent my life fixing their scandals, yet they were ready to throw me to the wolves the moment I became useful as a pawn.
But when I stood before Delos French at his gala, he didn't see a trophy. He recognized my scent, my touch, and the fire in my eyes. He trapped me in his private lounge, kneeling to clean the blood from my injured feet.
"Marry me," he whispered, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "And I will give you the power to burn your family to the ground."
I looked into the eyes of the man who had hunted me and realized he was the only one offering me a weapon to destroy the people who had broken me.
"Okay," I whispered.
8.9
For three years, Alana acted as the sole tactical brain for the Dawnbreaker squad, keeping them alive despite being labeled a useless "Dud" Conduit.
But right before the crucial Ascension Trials, squad leader Cash handed her a corporate sponsorship contract. The condition? She had to become the "private companion" to a greasy corporate heir just so the squad could get high-tier gear.
When she refused, the teammates she had bled for unanimously voted to kick her out.
"You're just window dressing, a liability."
They revoked her safehouse access, burned her belongings, and the academy advisor even tried to force her into a state-sanctioned breeding program. They left her to freeze in the slums, betting she would desperately crawl into the rich man's bed.
What they didn't know was that her inability to summon an Eidolon wasn't a lack of talent. Her teammate Dallin had been secretly sabotaging her rituals for years, crippling her potential just to keep her chained as their free tactician.
Stripped of everything and pushed to the absolute brink, Alana's despair morphed into a deadly resolve.
Using a million-credit black market loan and a forbidden blood matrix, she forcibly anchored an Apex-Tier cosmic wolf disguised as a harmless silver pup.
When her ex-squad tried to publicly humiliate her and burn her new "pet" alive in the cafeteria, a flash of silver light severed Dallin's hand instantly.
Looking at her screaming former teammates, Alana finally smiled.
8.4
Everything in Chris' world changes when he meets Kate.
Chris Cena who is a young billionaire CEO controls one of the most powerful empires built by his late father.
Chris lives under the shadow of his mother, Elisabeth Cena. The ruthless woman who once ruled the empire before handing it to him.
Kate Milmar who is brillant, sensual and emotionally guarded moves confidently among powerful men without ever allowing herself to belong to any of them.
When she publicly challenges a wealthy client, her fearless defiance immediately captures Chris's attention.
Chris offers her a dangerous proposal for her to leave her world and exclusively belong to him.
As their attraction grows slowly, Kate notices strange cracks in the history of the Cena Empire. Chris's father died suddenly years earlier and in the aftermath, Elisabeth took control of the company briefly before passing it to her son.
What once seemed like a normal transition begins to look suspicious as Kate uncovers missing records, hidden documents and a mysterious change in the company's will.
Elisabeth sees Kate as a threat to both her son and the legacy she had built and a silent war begins between the two women .
Chris gets caught between his loyalty to his mother and the growing feelings he has for Kate.
9.3
"Adrian, why would you lie to me? Why would you let her push my mum like that?"
Yvonne's voice trembled, holding back tears.
Adrian smirked. "Wake up, Yvonne. You really thought I wanted you when Tricia was right here?"
That was how Adrian-her first crush, the boy she thought cared-chose to humiliate her in front of everyone as she was the cleaner's adopted daughter.
But fate had other plans.
Because the Diamond Belfort brothers-the heirs everyone adored were coming to their school in search of their missing heiress- baby sister. But the queen bee steals the chance that should have been hers. Then again, secrets don't stay buried forever. With her true identity waiting to explode, Yvonne must decide to rise from the ashes, claim her place, and bring down everyone who tried to destroy her.
Because the real heiress doesn't beg.
She takes rather.
Now, Yvonne is done playing small. It's her time to rise, reclaim her crown, and make everyone regret ever doubting her.
7.9
Eileen Goff was a nobody, scrubbing diner tables to survive while her greedy family bled her dry.
On the eve of her twentieth birthday, the government's mandatory marriage algorithm matched her with a spouse.
It wasn't a plumber or a teacher. It was Harrison Butler, the ruthless, untouchable billionaire king of Butler Industries.
At the registry, Harrison's glamorous intended fiancée threw a half-million-dollar check at her.
"Take the money, get out of here, and never show your face again."
The registry supervisor even offered her a million dollars to sign a cancellation agreement, trying to erase her from the system.
At their first high-society gala, Harrison's stepmother and the fiancée locked Eileen in an empty room, plotting to humiliate her and prove she was just cheap trash.
Eileen was terrified and confused. Men like Harrison Butler didn't just accept federal matches with girls who smelled like fried onions.
But instead of abandoning her, Harrison smashed the door open, publicly banished his own family, and kissed her in front of the entire city's elite.
Why was this billionaire going to such extreme lengths to protect a complete stranger?
Then she overheard his assistant talking about a marriage clause in his grandfather's trust fund.
He didn't love her; he just needed a powerless, state-mandated wife to lock his parasitic family out of his empire.
Realizing she was a highly valuable pawn, Eileen stopped trembling, looked the billionaire in the eye, and spoke.
"I believe we can have more than just a legal relationship. We can have a business arrangement."
7.7
Silas Vane, a billionaire on the edge of ruin, needs his ex-wife's signature to save his tech empire-and June Ashby, his scorned orchard-owning ex, wants only one thing: to make him suffer.
The deal is brutal, simple, and non-negotiable: Silas must move back to their small hometown, trade his silk suits for calloused hands, and work the orchard harvest for six months. Worse? He has to play her doting husband for the press-fake marriage, real contract, no room for error.
What starts as a revenge-fueled game quickly spirals. As the sun dips below the orchard trees, old sparks reignite, and the line between fake and real blurs into something dangerous.
Silas came to town for a patent to save his empire. But he might just walk away with a broken contract-and a heart completely owned by the woman who set out to destroy him.