CHAPTER THREE:THE WOMAN BESIDE THE DEVIL
1289 Words
The first rule of being Damian Voss’s wife, I learned quickly, was this:
Everyone watched.
The moment we stepped into the grand hall, the low murmur of voices dipped not into silence, but into something heavier. Awareness. Calculation. Judgment.
Men in tailored suits turned their heads. Women dressed in silk and diamonds paused mid-conversation. Guards stiffened, hands hovering near concealed weapons.
And all of them looked at me.
Not with curiosity.
With assessment.
I felt it like pressure against my skin, like hands reaching out to weigh my worth, to decide how I could be used, broken, or exploited.
Damian’s arm remained steady beneath my fingers.
“Breathe,” he murmured without looking at me. “They can smell fear.”
That didn’t help.
I lifted my chin anyway.
We walked forward together, slow and deliberate, as though this moment had been rehearsed a hundred times—even though it hadn’t. Damian guided me through the room with subtle movements, his hand firm at my back, his presence unmistakably possessive.
This was not affection.
This was a warning.
A tall man approached first, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, his smile sharp and insincere.
“Damian Voss,” he said smoothly. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”
Damian’s expression didn’t change. “Only the ones worth keeping.”
The man’s gaze slid to me. “And this must be the wife.”
Isabella, I reminded myself. You are Isabella Voss now.
“Yes,” Damian said coolly. “This is my wife.”
Not contract. Not temporary.
Wife.
The word sent a strange shiver through me.
The man extended his hand toward me. “Marco De Santis.”
I hesitated for half a second—long enough to feel Damian’s grip tighten almost imperceptibly.
I placed my hand in Marco’s.
His fingers lingered a moment too long.
“Well,” he said, smiling thinly, “she’s not what I expected.”
Damian’s voice dropped, calm and lethal. “Neither is your continued breathing.”
Marco chuckled, withdrawing his hand. “Still charming, Voss.”
As he walked away, I exhaled shakily.
“You didn’t have to threaten him,” I whispered.
“Yes, I did,” Damian replied. “He likes to test boundaries.”
“So do you.”
A pause.
Then, quietly, “Only with things that matter.”
His gaze flicked to me.
My stomach tightened.
Introductions blurred together after that.
Names. Faces. Families. Power wrapped in politeness and poisoned smiles. Every handshake felt like a gamble. Every glance carried intent.
I smiled when I was expected to smile. Spoke when Damian prompted me to speak. Stayed silent when silence was safer.
And all the while, I felt it the shift.
People weren’t just seeing me.
They were recalculating.
She’s real, their eyes seemed to say. She’s not a rumor. She’s not a distraction.
She’s leverage.
We stopped near a group of men speaking in low tones. Damian’s hand rested lightly at my waist now, fingers warm against the fabric of my dress.
“You’re doing well,” he murmured.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “They hate me.”
“They fear you,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Why would they fear me?”
His thumb brushed my side an absent, grounding gesture.
“Because anything I claim,” Damian said quietly, “becomes important.”
The meaning settled slowly.
Dangerously.
Before I could respond, a woman approached.
She was beautiful in a sharp, deliberate way dark hair pinned back, eyes like polished glass.
“Damian,” she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “You move fast.”
“And you talk too much,” he replied evenly.
Her gaze slid to me. “So this is her.”
I met her stare. Held it.
“Yes,” I said calmly. “This is me.”
Something flickered surprise, maybe. Or irritation.
“I’m Valeria,” she said. “An old… associate.”
Damian stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Valeria’s smile widened. “I didn’t expect you to marry someone so… soft.”
Before I could respond, Damian spoke.
“She’s not soft,” he said coldly. “She’s untouched by people like you. That’s why you’re uncomfortable.”
Valeria laughed lightly. “Careful, Damian. You sound protective.”
“I am,” he said without hesitation.
The word landed between us like a blade.
Valeria studied me for a long moment. Then she leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“Be careful, Isabella,” she murmured. “Men like him don’t love. They consume.”
Damian’s grip tightened instantly.
“Walk away,” he said to Valeria. “Now.”
She did still smiling.
I felt Damian’s tension like a live wire.
“Who was she?” I asked quietly.
“Someone who no longer matters.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He glanced down at me, his expression dark. “You don’t need that answer yet.”
Yet.
The attack came without warning.
A sharp c***k split the air.
Then chaos.
Shouts. Screams. Guards moving fast. Someone grabbed me
And suddenly Damian was in front of me, his body a shield.
“Down!” he barked.
Gunshots rang out.
My heart slammed violently as Damian pushed me behind a marble pillar, his arms bracketing me in, his body pressed close enough that I could feel his heartbeat fast, furious, alive.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
“I’m not leaving you,” I snapped, fear sharpening my voice.
His eyes flashed. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
Another shot rang out.
Damian cursed under his breath, one hand gripping my shoulder as the other drew a gun from inside his jacket with smooth, practiced ease.
This wasn’t new to him.
That terrified me more than the gunfire.
“Damian”
He leaned in close, his forehead nearly touching mine. “Look at me.”
I did.
“If anything happens,” he said fiercely, “you run. You don’t look back. You don’t wait for me.”
“No,” I whispered.
His jaw clenched. “Isabella.”
“I won’t,” I repeated.
For a split second, something raw broke through his control.
Then he was gone.
Shots echoed. Orders barked. Time fractured into sharp, terrifying fragments.
Minutes later though it felt like hours the noise faded.
Damian returned.
Blood stained his cuff.
Not his.
He knelt in front of me, his hands firm but gentle as he checked my face, my arms.
“Are you hurt?”
I shook my head, my breath trembling.
His hand lingered at my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he said quietly.
The words stunned us both.
He seemed to realize what he’d said at the same moment I did.
His hand dropped.
“We’re leaving,” he said curtly.
Back in the car, silence pressed in around us.
My hands shook now that the danger had passed.
“They were aiming for you,” I said softly.
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then, “Because of us.”
The word sent a chill through me.
I looked at him. “You said I’d be safe.”
“You are,” he said. “Which is why things are about to change.”
My stomach clenched. “How?”
He met my gaze, his eyes darker than I’d ever seen them.
“From now on,” Damian Voss said,
“this marriage stops being a performance.”
The car sped into the night.
And I realized, with terrifying clarity
The world had just declared war on Damian Voss.
And I was standing at his side.
- Writer
