Marriage Of Desire

Chapter 6: Walls Between Us

The silence between them was heavy. It lingered like a stubborn storm cloud, refusing to drift away no matter how hard Ella wished it would.

The morning sun was already peeking through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Damian’s penthouse, casting golden streaks across the marble floors. It should have felt warm—hopeful even—but instead, the light only served as a reminder of the cold reality between them.

Ella sat on the edge of her pristine bed, staring blankly at her hands as she replayed his words over and over in her mind.

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

It wasn’t just what Damian had said; it was how he’d said it. Dismissive, cruel, as though the very idea of her feelings mattered so little that he’d warned her out of habit rather than necessity.

Don’t fall in love with me.

As if.

She’d been reckless that night at the gala, letting herself feel—letting herself get lost in the whirlwind of his touch, his presence. For one fleeting moment, she’d forgotten this was all a façade, a business arrangement. He hadn’t forgotten. And now she knew where she stood.

Ella stood abruptly, heading to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, hoping to wipe away the frustration simmering inside her. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she didn’t recognize herself. The woman staring back at her looked too vulnerable, too tired. The shadows under her eyes, the slight droop of her shoulders—this wasn’t the Ella Hart she knew.

She needed to be stronger.

By the time Ella emerged from her room, Damian was already seated at the dining table, a newspaper spread in front of him and a steaming cup of coffee within reach. He looked like he belonged there—confident, untouchable, a man who woke up each day already in control of the world.

His eyes flicked up when she entered the room, but his expression gave nothing away.

“Morning,” she said, her voice flat, walking straight to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” he replied, equally distant, as though they were polite strangers and not two people tangled in a web of lies and unspoken feelings.

The sound of her heels clicking against the floor echoed through the quiet space as she joined him at the table, sitting at the far end, creating as much distance between them as possible. Damian’s eyes followed her, sharp and calculating, but he said nothing.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and suffocating. Ella focused on stirring her coffee, her spoon clinking against the porcelain like the ticking of a clock.

Damian eventually broke the silence, his tone neutral. “You’ll need to clear your schedule this afternoon.”

She glanced up at him, surprised. “Why?”

“There’s a fitting for your dress,” he said, flipping a page of his newspaper without looking at her. “The wedding date will be announced soon. You need to look the part.”

Of course. The wedding. The fake wedding for their fake marriage.

Ella took a sip of her coffee, hiding the bitterness she felt. “Fine.”

She expected him to say more, maybe to criticize her for her curt tone, but Damian only nodded and returned to his reading. It was as though last night had never happened—as though the man who had held her so possessively, kissed her so thoroughly, had vanished into thin air.

That realization stung more than she cared to admit.

The boutique was a whirlwind of activity. Tailors bustled around Ella, pinning fabric and taking measurements as she stood on a pedestal surrounded by mirrors. The dress they’d chosen was stunning—an off-the-shoulder gown that hugged her figure perfectly, with delicate lace trailing down to the floor. She looked like a bride.

But she didn’t feel like one.

“You look beautiful,” Damian said suddenly, his deep voice breaking through her thoughts.

Ella froze, her gaze snapping to his reflection in the mirror. He was sitting on a plush chair a few feet away, watching her with that unreadable expression of his.

“Thanks,” she said stiffly, turning her attention back to the tailor adjusting the fabric at her waist.

Damian didn’t look away. “Is something bothering you?”

Ella let out a sharp laugh. “What isn’t bothering me?”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t argue. He stood and walked over to her, his steps deliberate. When he reached her, he met her gaze in the mirror.

“This will be over soon,” he said, his voice low. “Once the deal is done, you’ll be free to go back to your life. You’ll have everything you need. A fresh start.”

His words should have brought her comfort. Instead, they made her feel hollow. A fresh start. As if she could walk away from all this unscathed. As if she could simply forget him.

“Good,” she said quietly, refusing to let him see how much his words affected her. “I can’t wait.”

Damian’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing more.

The ride back to the penthouse was silent. Damian sat beside her in the car, his phone in hand, his attention elsewhere. Ella stared out the window, watching the city blur past her.

When they arrived, Ella went straight to her room, shutting the door behind her before she could say something she’d regret. She needed space—space to breathe, to think, to figure out how she was going to survive the next few months without completely losing herself.

But space was hard to come by when Damian Black was always so close.

That evening, Ella found herself in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for something to eat. She didn’t expect Damian to join her, but moments later, she heard his footsteps behind her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone clipped.

“Making something for dinner,” she replied without turning around. “I don’t feel like eating takeout again.”

“I have a chef for that.”

“Well, I have hands,” she shot back, pulling a pan from the cabinet and slamming it onto the stove.

She heard him sigh, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned against the counter, watching her. The tension in the room was palpable. Ella ignored him, focusing on chopping vegetables and pretending he wasn’t there.

After a long silence, Damian spoke again. “I meant what I said, you know.”

She paused, the knife stilling in her hand. “About what?”

“About not falling in love with me.”

Ella turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t worry, Damian. You’re not that irresistible.”

Something flickered in his gaze—something dark and unreadable. “Good,” he said, pushing away from the counter. “Keep it that way.”

And just like that, he walked out, leaving her standing there, her chest tight and her emotions swirling.

Ella turned back to the stove, gripping the counter as she tried to steady herself.

Don’t fall in love with me.

Fine. She wouldn’t.

She couldn’t.

She was only here for the money, for the promise of a better life. She wouldn’t let herself feel. She wouldn’t let herself hope.

But as she stood there, alone in the empty kitchen, she couldn’t ignore the ache in her chest.

Because the truth was, Damian Black was already starting to feel like something dangerous—something she couldn’t resist.

And that terrified her.