I hurried off to deal with another crisis after dumping the guy in the room. Bella had already bombarded me with dozens of texts.

Just as I was about to leave, the man seemed to regain consciousness. He grabbed at my sleeve, murmuring, "Don't go."

After placating a few other handsome young men and paying them according to Bella's standards, I stumbled back to my apartment. I wired some money to the hospital before collapsing onto my bed. But sleep eluded me. My mind kept replaying the sensation of Damian's lips and the fresh, woodsy scent of his cologne.

Damian must be the guy Bella's family set her up with. I had overheard something about him. Damian's family was extraordinarily well-off, so even rich girl Bella was marrying up with him.

More importantly, outwardly he was a university professor, but he also ran a successful bodyguard company on the side. A quick search popped up a picture of Damian wearing sunglasses, sitting in a suit with a crew of similarly dressed bodyguards behind him. As impressive as it looked, it gave off serious gang boss vibes.

I just hoped he wouldn't come after me. Yet, a part of me wanted to see him again. While I worried over this, Bella called.

"Did you meet Damian yesterday?" Her tone was far from friendly.

I panicked. If Bella knew I had flirted with her future husband and acted all wild in front of him, she’d definitely skin me alive for ruining her image.

“Well, that’s perfect. Keep handling him for me. Better yet, make him disgusted with me. It’s hilarious—I’ve not had enough fun to settle down yet. Marriage? Not a chance!” Bella’s irritated voice echoed her resistance to this arranged marriage.

I quickly agreed, feeling both relieved and anxious.

By day, I worked at an ad agency, doing makeup for models. This time, the model was Oliver Fielding, a small-time star fresh off a net series hit. Handsome as he was, his attitude was terrible. He hated every makeup artist he'd been assigned, and my boss finally sent me to deal with him.

I summoned all my focus, cautiously tending to Oliver’s makeup, fearing I might tick him off.

Midway, a tall man approached. I glanced up—it was Damian! Panic surged. He couldn’t find out I was doing makeup like some commoner.

Mentally chanting, “Don’t see me, don’t see me…” I watched him turn and look directly at me, startling me into smudging Oliver’s eyebrows into bushy rectangles.

I quickly apologized, burying my face in Oliver's chest and sneakily observing Damian from that vantage point. The assistant noticed and was about to scold me, so I quickly apologized again and dashed to the restroom.

Damn it! I remembered too late that Damian was here for a promotional shoot. His bodyguard company was recruiting new members today.

“Miss Colton?” I had my head down, lost in thoughts of escape, when I collided straight into Damian's solid chest.

“What, you again? Out of money?” I had to keep up the conceited, disinterested act.

“What is Miss Colton doing here?” Damian was dressed in his company’s standard uniform, sunglasses tucked into his pocket. He had an unmistakable boss aura that screamed ‘intimidating.’

I instinctively knew I was in trouble.

"Why do you care? If I have my eyes on someone and am chasing after them, do I need to report it to you?" I straightened my back, feigning a boldness, and said firmly. I was satisfied to see Damian's face darken.

Successfully gaining his disdain, I hoped he'd lose interest in Bella and refuse the alliance.

"That novice? I could knock him over in one go," Damian scoffed, pointing at Oliver who was innocently sipping water.

"What do you know? I happen to like that type," I snapped back, almost too bluntly.

"Oh, is that so? Come here," Damian said, slightly disappointed, and clapped his hands to summon a group of people.

A line of tall, muscular bodyguards in black suits and sunglasses approached me, making me want to bolt. "What are you doing?" I asked, feigning annoyance.

Damian chuckled. "You like toyboys, don't you? Well, I have a whole bunch for you to choose from."

With that, the bodyguards stood in a neat row, taking off their sunglasses and striking poses as if they were on a catwalk.

What the hell? I thought he was going to kidnap me! I pretended to scan them with disdain. Sure enough, they were all tall, with perfect features and likely sporting eight-pack abs underneath those uniforms. Toyboys?

Dealing with a gang boss is exhausting.

"Well, do you fancy any of them?" Damian leaned down to meet my eyes, though his height made it feel like he was towering over me. Damn height difference.

"No, I'm not interested in them," I said, feigning calm as I brushed past him. A picture of a proud, willful heiress. I almost admired my own acting skills until reality snapped back.

"Where the hell is the makeup artist, Rose?!" A sharp voice barked, startling the staff into silence.

It was my boss, Eva Hollis, notoriously strict. If she caught me slacking off, I’d be skinned alive. I thought of pretending to be sick and hiding in the bathroom, but before I could move, "Ouch!" Eva grabbed my ear.

Damian stepped forward, ready to play the hero, while his bodyguards looked primed for action. I signaled him to stop, and reluctantly, he did.

After hurriedly touching up Oliver's makeup and getting a scolding that cost me part of my salary, I collapsed into my office chair, utterly spent.

While catching my breath, I pondered how to keep up the charade in front of Damian. I glanced at my reflection. My makeup wasn't perfect today, but I usually modeled my look after Bella's, making myself resemble her closely. I was confident most people couldn't tell us apart. I even mimicked her gestures and speech.

The dilemma remained—how to explain my job here?

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. An employee asked me to do another makeup job. Confused, I said I was done for the day.

I opened the door, and there stood Damian! He specifically requested Rose, and as the boss, he was untouchable, while I was just an expendable worker.

Eva was nearby, pouring tea with an unusual demureness, as if she were a shy schoolgirl.