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I groaned.

"Oh for the love of⁠—"

Damon looked entirely too pleased with himself. "Thought it was time for a performance review."

"You're never going to let me forget those four days, are you?"

"Best job I ever had."

I rolled my eyes and kept reading.

Party A: Damon Lockhart

Party B: Mikayla Parsons

ORIGINAL CONTRACT TERM: Four Days

PERFORMANCE EVALUATION: Exceeded Expectations

"Exceeded expectations?" I read aloud.

"I was being modest."

"You're allergic to modesty."

"Keep reading, sweetheart."

I looked down.

POSITION: Boyfriend

Beneath it, in bold letters:

POSITION: FIANCÉ

My brain stopped. Completely. No thoughts. No oxygen. No ability to form words.

I stared at the page. Then at Damon. Then back at the page. "Uh."

It was possibly the least intelligent sound I'd ever made. And considering I'd once accidentally thanked a parking meter, that was saying something.

When I looked up again, Damon was lowering himself onto one knee. My heart did something medically concerning. "Damon?"

"That's me."

"Are you proposing?"

"I had a speech, but your face is making me nervous."

"You don't get nervous."

His smile softened. "I do about you."

Oh. Crap. That was unfair.

Because Damon Lockhart was supposed to be the charming one. The cocky one. The man who could talk his way out of a speeding ticket and into a stranger's family Christmas.

He wasn't supposed to look at me like I held his entire world in my hands. He wasn't supposed to have a slight tremor in his fingers when he opened the little velvet box. And he absolutely wasn't supposed to make my eyes burn before I'd even said yes.