"Did I hear wrong?"
Haha.Now everything made sense.
It was a dream.
A ridiculously bizarre dream. Of course it was. What else could it be? I closed my eyes tightly and pinched my wrist, hard, willing myself to wake up from this nonsense.
When I opened my eyes again, that flawless, infuriatingly calm face was still right there.
My smile froze.
Not a dream.
"Ms. Bennett, I'm being serious," Lucas Blackwood said evenly, watching my strange behaviour with a slight shake of his head. "My request is that you marry me."
I exhaled slowly.
Alright. Now I was certain the gods were having a fantastic time watching my life spiral into absurdity. I stared at him—really stared. That sculpted face, sharp jaw, impeccable features. The man countless women dreamed of. Women who would gladly sell their dignity just to spend one night with him.
And that man… was sitting in front of me, asking me to marry him.
If I didn't laugh at my fate, what else was I supposed to do?
"Mr. Blackwood," I said carefully, "I don't think I'm understanding you properly. Are you talking about a fake marriage?"
"A trial marriage."
"A trial marriage?" I repeated. "That's basically a real marriage. So you're asking for the real thing?"
"Yes."
Just one word. Calm. Absolute.
I fell silent, my thoughts tangled beyond repair. "I don't get it," I finally said. "Actually… I don't get anything. This is so—"
"But this is my request," he interrupted.
I wanted to cry.
Was it even fair to call this a request when I had no real choice? A request implied the right to refuse.
"Grace," Lucas said calmly.
His secretary immediately stepped forward and placed a thick printed document onto my lap.
"What is this?" I asked, glancing at him warily.
"Our formal agreement," he replied.
My fingers felt cold as I opened it. Line by line, clause by clause, I read. Then reread. Then read it again—five times in total.
He wasn't joking.Not even slightly.
"The contract states I'm obliged to remain married to you for one year," I said slowly. "After that, if either party wishes to withdraw, we're free to do so?"
Lucas nodded.
"I still don't understand why," I said, closing the file. "The scandal isn't severe enough to force you into marriage. With your influence, you could suppress it easily. And… you already have a fiancée."
"I have other reasons," he replied. "As for my fiancée—our engagement exists only between elders. There were no personal feelings involved."
I paused.
This proposal… wasn't entirely unreasonable. But I refused to walk into a trap blind.
"Marriage isn't a small decision," I said carefully. "I hope Mr. Blackwood understands that. If you tell me your reasons, I can make a more informed choice."
It was a gamble.If he told me, we could build trust.If he didn't—I'd shut myself off completely.
Lucas studied me in silence, as if weighing something. Then his lips curved into a faint smile. The kind that made him dangerously irresistible.
He liked people who thought ahead.He liked me.
"I want to get rid of my fiancée," he said finally.
"Vanessa Wright?"
"Yes." He paused, then added, "She's… a bit eccentric."
I coughed.
Vanessa Wright—the media's perfect woman. Elegant. Gentle. Untouchable. An award‑winning actress adored nationwide.
And he called her eccentric?
Still, I nodded. "That explains things. You're using this marriage to dissolve your engagement."
"That's one reason," he said, shaking his head. "Not the main one."
I frowned. "Then what is?"
He leaned back, resting his head against his hand, eyes locked onto mine with unnerving intensity. A small smile played on his lips as he observed every flicker of my reaction.
"The main reason," he said slowly, "is that I'm interested in you."
My throat went dry.
"I want to marry you," he continued, unhurried, "because I'm interested in you."
I laughed weakly. "I don't believe you."
His expression sharpened. He leaned closer. I instinctively leaned back—but his hand came down beside me, blocking my escape. He didn't stop until his face was inches from mine.
Is he insane? His secretary is still here!
He lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"What should I do to make you believe me?"
His voice was low. Dangerous.
I choked on air, coughing violently as I scrambled away from him. "N‑Nothing! I believe you! I believe you! There's no need for you to do anything!"
He laughed.
I stared at him in disbelief.Was he… teasing me?
"What is it about me that interests you?" I asked stiffly.
"What is it in you?" he echoed, frowning slightly.
"There are countless women better suited than me," I said. "More qualified. More refined."
"So?"
"So why me?"
"Given the scandal," he replied calmly, "you're the best candidate."
"And that's it?"
"More importantly," he added, "I find you tolerable."
I stared at him.
Tolerable.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Was that a compliment?
In the end, I sighed. He was impossible.
"And if I agree," I asked quietly, "you'll forget about the damages and I'll be free after a year?"
"Yes."
This time, his smile was distinctly roguish.
Everything was moving too fast. My mind lagged behind the madness unfolding around me. I bit my lip, then made a decision—one I wasn't sure I wouldn't regret.
"Mr. Blackwood," I said softly,"I'll marry you."