Chapter Three
The gala lights are dazzling, the kind that make you feel smaller than you really are. I walk in, heels clicking on the polished floor, and immediately feel the weight of every eye in the room. Cameras flash. Laughter and music hum like a living thing around me. And through it all, I sense him, Damien, always a few steps behind, like he was watching without blinking.
I straighten my back, smile for the cameras, and force my pulse to slow. This is a performance, and I've promised myself I'll survive it. One year. That's all.
Then I see it; someone on the guest list who shouldn't be here. Someone whose smile doesn't reach their eyes. They stare at me once, deliberately, and then move to the side, disappearing into the crowd, like a predator stalking prey.
My stomach tightens. I stare at Damien, who is standing a few feet away, perfectly composed. But his hand hangs near mine just a fraction longer than it needs to when he adjusts my sleeve. A reminder. A warning.
"Do you see that?" I whisper, leaning slightly toward him.
Damien's eyes narrow, scanning the room. "Yes," he murmurs, quiet enough for no one else to hear. "And I want you to ignore it… for now."
"Ignore it?" I repeat, being skeptical. "They're looking at me like I'm a target!"
His hand touches mine briefly. The contact is electric, almost accidental, but it sends a shock through me that has nothing to do with fear. "Watch and learn, Elena. There are moves you don't understand yet. And some moves you'll never see coming."
I bite back a shiver. Not from the words, but from him. The way he stands, the sharpness in his eyes, the subtle way he controls the room without anyone noticing. I've survived hostile boardrooms, skeptical investors, and furious creditors, but this… this is different.
The gala progresses, a blur of conversation, sparkling dresses, and champagne, And all the while, I feel eyes on me, the unknown guest, the press, and Damien. His gaze is possessive, calculating, impossible to ignore. Every glance I steal in his direction is met with the lift of an eyebrow or a subtle tightening of his jaw, and I realize he's looking at everything. Even my movements.
A photographer angles for a shot of us, hands ready for the perfect frame. I step slightly closer to Damien, letting my body lean into his arm. I can't explain it. Habit? Safety? Something deeper, unspoken? He doesn't respond, but his presence is enough to steady me. And unsteady me all at once.
Later, I excuse myself to the balcony, needing fresh air, needing space, needing distance from the chaos inside. The night air is cool, the city lights sprawling endlessly below. My chest tightens as I replay the last five years,he mistakes, the regrets, the words I can never take back. And yet, Damien's presence haunts me more than my memories ever could.
A shadow falls across the balcony. My pulse spikes. He's there. Of course he's there. Damien. Hands in pockets, leaning casually against the railing, looking more like a storm waiting to break than a man at a party.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," he says, voice low, teasing, dangerous.
"I needed air," I mutter, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "The crowd… it's suffocating."
He tilts his head, studying me. "Crowds can't hurt you. Not when you know who's watching."
I looked toward the room, toward the mysterious stranger I noticed earlier. They aren't visible from here, but Damien's eyes flick in that direction anyway. His gaze sharpens.
"Who are they?" I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn't answer immediately. Just steps closer, closing the distance between us in a way that makes my heart beat. "Someone who thinks they can control things… who thinks they can control you. But they don't know the whole picture."
I frown. "The whole picture? Damien, I don't understand. Why… why am I only finding out now?"
His hand brushes mine almost deliberately this time. Not enough to touch, but enough to make me aware of every inch between us. "Because you're supposed to survive, Elena. Not panic. Not get distracted. And not trust the wrong people too soon."
The heat in my chest swells, frustration, fear, longing, all tangled in a single knot. "Or maybe," I mutter, "you just don't trust me."
His eyes soften for a fraction of a second, almost vulnerable. "I trust you," he says quietly, voice low. "More than you know. But trust doesn't protect you from lies… or danger."
I swallow hard. And then, our eyes lock. The air between us is electric, charged. My pulse quickens. I want to tell him everything. I want to throw myself into his arms and admit that my thoughts have been haunted by him since the moment I signed that contract. But fear, pride, and the weight of what's at stake keep me frozen.
From the balcony, I see movement inside, the guest. Damien notices too. His hand rubs my back lightly, almost possessive, almost claiming. The spark it sends through me is undeniable. My chest tightens.
"They're not here for me," I whisper.
He doesn't reply, just nods toward the entrance, a silent signal that the game is about to begin. "They're here for what's behind you," he says softly.
I glance back at him, confused. He doesn't elaborate. And I realize, with a sudden Shockwave, that the night, this contract, this city, this ring, this man, is far more dangerous than I ever imagined.
And yet… I can't stop staring at him.
Because in every darkness, every whispered threat, every spark of touch… Damien is the one constant I can't predict. The one storm I can't escape. And the one truth I might already be too late to resist.