Chapter Six
by Roxanne Rene
Rowan Hart had endured her fair share of difficulties throughout her life, but nothing—absolutely nothing—could prepare her for the sheer madness of awakening in a luxurious billionaire’s penthouse. Rowan found herself in a surreal scenario with a full-time staff attending to every need, a marriage proposal hovering uncomfortably in the air, and a five-year-old daughter who had seamlessly embraced this extravagant lifestyle.
“Mommy, I’m having pancakes in bed!” Nessa proclaimed with unbridled enthusiasm from the vast expanse of Damien’s king-sized mattress, her face illuminated with delight. “This place is amazing!”
Rowan pinched the bridge of her nose, battling a wave of frustration. “Honey, we don’t eat in bed…” she reminded her daughter, attempting to inject some semblance of normalcy into their extraordinary surroundings.
Nessa, undeterred, took an enormous bite of her syrup-drizzled pancake and smiled, a streak of syrup adorning her cheek. Rowan sighed deeply, realizing she had already lost this battle. Fantastic. The corruption was complete.
A sharp knock echoed from the bedroom door as she steeled herself for the inevitable negotiations about breakfast etiquette. Ivan, looking irritatingly well-rested in an impossibly luxurious silk robe (seriously, where had he even found that?), sauntered in, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in his hand.
“So,” he drawled, his tone teasing, “have you come to your senses and run screaming yet?”
Rowan shot him a glare. “No.”
Ivan perched himself casually on the edge of the bed, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama. “Interesting. Because I distinctly recall you letting out a scream last night when Mr. Bond Villain casually proposed marriage.”
Rowan groaned in exasperation, “It wasn’t a proposal! It was merely… an idea.”
Ivan took a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Uh-huh. And where is the billionaire fiancé-wannabe this fine morning?”
As if summoned by Ivan’s words, Damien strolled into the room. He wore a fitted black T-shirt accentuating his broad shoulders and low-slung sweatpants, looking effortlessly disarming. Rowan’s mind momentarily short-circuited.
Ivan arched an eyebrow with feigned shock. “Oh, hell no. He’s hot in casual wear too?”
Damien smirked, his confidence radiating. “Good morning to you, too, Ivan.”
Ivan muttered something about the injustice of genetics, shaking his head.
Meanwhile, Rowan was still grappling with the reality of Damien’s mere presence. Engaging in fierce debates with him in a high-stakes boardroom was one thing, but encountering Casual Morning Damien—rumpled, relaxed, and unfairly attractive—was an entirely different challenge.
She cleared her throat, attempting to regain focus. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
Damien leaned effortlessly against the doorframe, his posture radiating a nonchalant charm. “I am.”
Ivan snorted, unable to resist the opportunity for a jab. “Sure, because standing around looking sexy is so exhausting.”
Damien merely smirked. “You’d be surprised.”
Ivan turned to Rowan, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re in danger.”
Rowan groaned, knowing he was right. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Later That Day…
Rowan had thought she was gradually acclimating to Damien’s opulent world. She was sorely mistaken.
The reality of being temporarily billionaire-adjacent came with its own unique set of surprises:
- A sleek driver was waiting to whisk her away at a moment’s notice (which felt absurd since she had a perfectly good 2018 Toyota Yaris parked outside, thank you very much).
- A personal shopper arrived, laden with designer clothing choices that Rowan had attempted to reject, only to be outmaneuvered by Ivan, who had eagerly aided in selecting them.
- And worst of all, she was being treated as though she were Damien’s actual fiancée.
“You do realize people think we’re engaged, right?” Rowan hissed at Damien as they stepped into his extravagant office, adorned with modern art and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Damien, ever calm, simply nodded. “Yes.”
Rowan’s eye twitched. “You didn’t think to correct them?”
Damien shrugged with nonchalance. “It’s easier this way.”
Rowan nearly exploded with frustration. “EASIER?!”
Damien fixed her with a steady gaze. “Rowan, I am literally trying to marry you. Why would I correct them?”
Once again, Rowan’s brain short-circuited.
Ivan, who had obviously tagged along for this spectacle, whistled appreciatively. “Wow. He just says these things out loud.”
Frustration boiling, Rowan turned to Damien, her voice rising. “You can’t just decide that we’re getting married!”
Damien tilted his head slightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t decide anything. I asked you.”
Rowan scowled, crossing her arms defiantly. “That was not a proper proposal.”
Damien’s lips twitched in amusement. “Would you prefer I get down on one knee?”
Rowan made a strangled noise, her resolve wavering.
Ivan clapped his hands together, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama. “Yes! Do it!”
Rowan kicked him playfully, earning a surprised laugh.
Damien sighed, his expression turning earnest. “Rowan, I’m not forcing you into anything. But I do know one thing.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to that dangerously smooth tone that could melt her resolve like butter on a hot skillet. “I lost you once,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering. “I won’t lose you again.”
Rowan swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. Of all the ridiculous things Damien had said lately, that sounded like a promise—a heavy, significant promise. And she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the implications that came with it.
Damien needs to experience the full emotional and domestic upset of his life. Tune in on March 1 for Chapter 7!
myHellian Romance 
Wonderful ♥️
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