Chapter Four
851 Words
Carina POV
The gates of the Voss mansion closed behind me with a clang and for a moment it felt like the whole world outside had disappeared. The past was shut out. It felt heavy and final. I did not look back not once.
The air outside was cool and fresh. It did not make me feel any better. I felt tight and nervous inside. Every step I took towards the car felt like I was being careful like I was trying not to make a mistake.
The black car was waiting for me at the edge of the driveway shining in the sunlight. The driver got out soon as he saw me and he took my suitcase from me.
"Let me take that Ma " he said, his voice smooth and polite.
I let go of the suitcase. My eyes met Damiens, who was standing beside me. He was calm. Still and I could not tell what he was thinking. I wondered if he could tell what I was thinking.
The driver gestured to the car. Before I could say anything Damien spoke up.
"Does my blindness really not bother you?" he asked.
I looked at him straight without feeling sorry for him or being scared.
"Why would it?" I said, my voice clear and firm. I did not want him to think I was unsure.
I opened the car door. Helped him in putting his hand on the edge of the seat. For a moment he did not. Then he slowly got in. I closed the door behind him walked around and got in the side. The car was smaller than the mansion. The quiet felt thick and heavy.
The engine. We began to move, gliding over the road. The silence was heavy. It was not empty. It was full of thoughts and unspoken words.
I glanced at Damien and his head was tilted slightly his jaw tight. His fingers were tense on the armrest. I could see the tension in his body.
He was a man who had been through a lot. He was still standing tall and strong.
"You were thinking " I said quietly trying not to break the silence.
"Yes " he replied, calm and controlled.
I studied him. Something about him made me feel uneasy. He had a presence that demanded attention. It was not loud or obvious. It was just there.
The silence came back heavy and thick like water pressing on my chest. I broke it carefully my voice measured and cautious.
"We need to talk " I said.
He turned to me sharp and attentive every muscle in his face controlled and restrained. "About what?" he asked.
"Our marriage " I said, letting the words hang in the air. They were hard to ignore. I watched him carefully. He did not react the way I expected. No shock, no anger, no excitement. Just. Controlled.
I took a breath and chose my words carefully. "Since neither of us wants this I think we should treat it like an arrangement. A year, maybe. We play our roles. We respect the marriage. No scandals, no mistakes." My fingers were tense on my lap. I could feel how much this mattered.
The car slowed down a bit. We did not notice.
"After one year " I added quietly my voice low and final. "We end it."
The words hung in the air, heavy and resolute. Damien did not speak away. He leaned back and thought about it measuring and calculating.
"One year " he said finally calm and controlled.
I nodded, steady. "Enough."
I could not let my thoughts wander. Not now. I had to focus on finding the painting my mothers memory, the piece of everything that had been taken from me. I will find it no matter what it costs.
Damien watched me for a moment his face unreadable. I did not want to know what he was thinking. It was enough that he was thinking, that he was measuring and considering.
"I do not like wasting time " I added.
There was a pause. Then he spoke, low and deliberate. "It sounds like a deal."
Our eyes met briefly unflinching and unshaken. The understanding was complete. One year. That was enough. For him for me.
Neither of us knew that the truth we were searching for had already started to take shape. It was closer than we thought. It was already here.
I studied Damien carefully without looking. I had learned a time ago that paying attention was power. Every gesture, every move, every slight adjustment of his shoulders told me something. He carried history and secrets in his posture and like me he had a mission.
For him it was finding the girl who had saved his life. The girl his heart belonged to. For me it was getting back what had been stolen.
We drove in silence the quiet heavy but precise. The city blurred outside. Every detail inside the car was clear. The smell of the leather the scent of Damien, the way his fi
ngers rested. Everything mattered.
- Writer
