The sound of the engine filled the silence between Jossy and Damien, while the driver kept his eyes focused on the road. Jossy sat restlessly, wondering if today's gala will be any different from the several others she had attended before.
"We won't be staying long," Damien said suddenly, his tone bored, as though the gala was an errand rather than a celebration. "It's not like you have a lot of people to say hi to anyway." He adjusted his tuxedo, catching his reflection in the window before continuing. " A few of my high school friends will be there. Some of my parents' business partners too. So," he turned his head toward her, his voice threatening "behave. Don't talk too much. And don't even think about flirting with anyone."
Jossy forced a smile, the practiced kind she had perfected over the past two years. Damien had never allowed her to mingle much during the galas, and it's not like she wanted to, anyway. "Of course," she murmured.
Their driver rolled the car slowly to the gala entrance, where flashes of light exploded in every direction. Within seconds, the swarm of reporters and photographers closed in on them.
Damien, already reaching for the handle, stepped out first, tall and polished in his designer suit, and then circled around to her side with the theatrics of a perfect gentleman. He opened the door for her as the cameras captured every moment, his hand outstretched like she was a fragile treasure.
"Mr. Rothwell! Mrs. Rothwell!
"Who is the designer for your dress?"
"How will you celebrate your upcoming second anniversary?"
"Any plans for children soon?"
"Tell us, Jossy, what's the secret to your perfect marriage?"
Their voices overlapped.