Chapter 4: Feels like Home

Evelyn sat in the backseat of the luxurious black Rolls-Royce, her fingers gripping the hem of her dress as she stared out of the tinted window. The city skyline blurred past, lights flickering like distant stars, but her thoughts were firmly rooted in the events of the past twenty-four hours.

She had signed the contract. She was now Mrs. Damian Lancaster—at least on paper.

The wedding had been as impersonal as a business transaction. No white dress, no vows whispered in love, no nervous anticipation of a future together. Instead, a quick ceremony at the courthouse, witnessed by Damian's ever-efficient assistant and a lawyer who barely looked up from the documents he needed them to sign. A simple exchange of rings followed, the weight of the platinum band on her finger feeling heavier than it should.

Evelyn's conditions had been clear:

"I need my privacy," she had stated firmly. "I don't want my life to become some spectacle. And I expect you to respect my space."

Damian had merely smirked at her, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. "I assure you, Evelyn, I have no interest in disrupting your life any more than necessary."

And yet, here she was, being driven to his estate—her new home.

The thought sent an unfamiliar chill down her spine. Damian Lancaster was a man of power, influence, and wealth, but he was also a man wrapped in mystery.

He had proposed this marriage for reasons he had yet to fully disclose. And though Evelyn had agreed, she wasn't naïve enough to believe there wasn't more to this arrangement than what met the eye.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of a grand estate nestled within the hills. The Lancaster mansion loomed before her, an architectural masterpiece of modern and classical design. Towering glass windows reflected the night sky, and soft golden lights illuminated the path leading to the entrance. A butler stood at the door, bowing slightly as Damian stepped out of the car and held the door open for her.

Evelyn hesitated. This was it. There was no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the car, her heels clicking softly against the marble driveway. Damian walked beside her, his tall frame exuding confidence, his gaze unreadable as he observed her reaction. "Welcome home," he murmured.

Home.

The word felt foreign. It had been years since she had truly felt at home anywhere. But she nodded, composing herself as she followed him inside.

The interior was even more breathtaking than the exterior. High ceilings, chandeliers that cast a warm glow, sleek modern furniture that screamed wealth and sophistication. It was the kind of home one would expect from a man like Damian Lancaster—grand yet cold, luxurious yet devoid of warmth.

"I had the guest wing prepared for you," Damian spoke, breaking the silence. "You'll have your own space, just as you requested."

Evelyn met his gaze, searching for any sign of deception

A strange tension settled between them, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

He studied her for a moment longer before nodding. "My assistant will provide you with a schedule of our upcoming appearances. For now, rest. You'll need it."

She was about to turn away when Damian took a step closer. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through her, her breath hitching slightly. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Slowly, he opened it, revealing a stunning diamond ring that caught the soft golden glow of the chandelier above.

Evelyn blinked. "I thought the ring at the courthouse was sufficient."

His dark gaze remained on her, unwavering. "That was for legality. This is for show."

For a moment, she said nothing, her heart pounding in a way she didn't quite understand. Before she could react, Damian took her hand in his—his touch firm yet surprisingly gentle. He slid the ring onto her finger, the diamond cool against her skin, but the warmth of his fingers lingered far longer than it should.

"There," he murmured, his voice lower, more intimate. "Now you look the part."

Evelyn swallowed, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out. She could only stare at him, trying to decipher the unreadable expression in his eyes. The way he looked at her—like he was seeing something deeper, something beyond the contract—unnerved her.

Before she could question it, he stepped back, the moment breaking as quickly as it had formed. "Good night, Evelyn."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the grand hallway, staring down at the dazzling ring on her finger.

It was done. The contract was sealed. But something about tonight felt different.

Something about the way he looked at her made her heart tremble.

Evelyn exhaled slowly, glancing down at the wedding band on her finger. It was done. The contract was sealed.

And now, she had to navigate this marriage of convenience with a man who was as much of an enigma as he was dangerously captivating.

She had no idea what lay ahead, but one thing was certain—nothing about this arrangement would be simple.

Evelyn’s new room in Damian’s mansion was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning nearly the size of her old apartment, the space exuded quiet opulence, every detail curated with exquisite taste. A plush cream carpet softened her steps as she walked in, the soft lighting from a crystal chandelier casting a golden glow over the ivory and gold decor. The king-sized bed, set against a velvet-upholstered headboard, was dressed in the softest Egyptian cotton sheets and layered with pillows in subtle hues of blush and champagne. To one side, a sitting area was arranged around a marble fireplace, complete with a curved velvet sofa and a built-in bookcase filled with a curated mix of classics and titles she’d once mentioned she loved. A glass wall opened onto a private balcony that overlooked the gardens, where the scent of roses and lavender floated on the breeze. There, a wrought-iron table and chair set sat waiting, perfect for morning coffee—just as she’d once casually said she liked.

Every corner of the room whispered that someone had been listening. A vanity sat by the window, the drawers filled with her favorite skincare products and makeup brands she’d thought no one noticed her using. On the wall, a delicate watercolor painting of a seaside town she once mentioned visiting as a child hung framed in silver. Even the walk-in closet, a luxurious haven of polished wood and soft lighting, had her style anticipated—clean lines, understated elegance, and a small section reserved for cozy loungewear and vintage scarves she’d once rambled about during a long work night. There was a sense of effort woven into the extravagance—not just wealth thrown around, but thoughtfulness masked behind opulent design. For a moment, standing in the doorway, Evelyn forgot about the contract, the conditions, and the façade. For a moment, it almost felt like someone had tried to make it feel like home.

She sat on the edge of the bed, exhaling sharply. What have I gotten myself into?