The Mask We Wear
1143 Words
Vivienne Cross
The car was silent, but my mind screamed.
Outside, New York glittered like a lie. Inside, I sat beside the man who had destroyed everything I knew.
“You could have chosen anyone,” I muttered without looking at him.
Damian didn’t respond right away. He simply adjusted the cuff of his tux.
“I didn’t want anyone,” he said. “I wanted you.”
I clenched my fists on my lap. “Why?”
He turned his head slowly. “Because you’re the one thing your father values more than the company. Taking you is taking what’s left of him.”
My chest tightened. “So this is revenge.”
“Call it leverage.”
“You’re sick.”
“No,” he said calmly. “I’m efficient.”
The car pulled up in front of a grand hotel. Cameras flashed before we even stepped out.
Damian leaned in, his voice low. “You’re mine now, Vivienne. Smile like you belong.”
I turned my face to him. “I’d rather burn.”
“Then do it beautifully.”
The door opened. The moment I stepped out, light exploded in my face. Photographers shouted our names. Reporters called for interviews. Damian reached for my hand.
I let him take it.
He guided me inside like a king walking his queen to the throne, only the throne was built on ash.
The ballroom shimmered with chandeliers and glass. Elegant guests turned to look. Some recognized me. Most recognized him.
“Is that Damian Volkov’s wife?” someone whispered.
I forced a smile.
“Relax your shoulders,” Damian murmured. “You look terrified.”
“I am.”
He tightened his grip. “Then pretend you’re not.”
We moved through the room like a well-oiled machine. I smiled at strangers. He spoke with investors. Every movement was rehearsed, even though we’d never practiced.
At the bar, he handed me a glass of champagne.
I didn’t take it. “You said no cameras at home. Does that rule apply here?”
“No,” he said. “Here, the world is watching.”
I took the glass.
A man in a navy suit approached us with a charming grin and too many teeth.
“Volkov. And this must be the new Mrs. Volkov. I’ve heard… interesting things.”
Damian smiled without warmth. “I’m sure you have.”
I nodded politely. “All lies, I hope.”
The man laughed. “Oh, I like her. She bites.”
He walked off before I could tell him what else I could do.
Damian looked at me, amused. “You handled that well.”
“I’m not here to amuse you.”
“No,” he said. “But you will.”
A string quartet started playing. Damian extended his hand.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
“It’s one dance. For the press.”
He stepped closer, voice low. “If you don’t, they’ll smell blood.”
I hated him for being right.
I placed my hand in his.
We moved to the dance floor. His hand rested on my lower back, fingers warm through the silk.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I’m furious,” I replied.
“You wear it well.”
We danced slowly, every eye on us. I kept my expression neutral, like this was normal, like I wasn’t falling apart inside.
Then he leaned in and whispered, “You think I’m the villain.”
“I know you are.”
“Then be smarter than your father. Don’t trust anyone here. Especially not the men who smile too wide.”
“Like you?”
He smiled. “Exactly like me.”
The song ended. The applause rose. Damian’s hand lingered a moment longer than it should have.
I pulled away.
“I want to leave,” I said.
“Soon.”
He walked off to speak with someone near the stage. I took a moment alone, slipping to the side of the room where no one was watching.
My heart was still racing.
“You don’t belong here.”
The voice behind me was quiet. Male. Familiar.
I turned.
A face from my past stood there. Brown hair. Grey eyes. He wore a suit, but he looked like he hated being in it.
“Liam,” I breathed.
He gave me a tight smile. “It’s really you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I work in finance now. I didn’t know you were… married.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly. “But you shouldn’t be with him.”
“It’s complicated.”
He studied my face. “If you ever need a way out, Vivie… I’ll help you.”
I felt a presence behind me before I even turned.
Damian.
He stepped between us like a shadow, wrapping an arm around my waist.
“Liam,” he said coldly. “Old friend?”
“Just catching up,” Liam replied.
“You’ve caught up enough.”
Liam’s jaw tightened. “She deserves better.”
“She deserves peace,” Damian said. “Walk away.”
Liam looked at me once more, then left.
When Damian turned to me, his eyes were sharper than glass.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“He’s an old friend.”
“He’s a threat.”
I pulled away from him. “To who? Your ego?”
His jaw flexed. “You don’t get to play games, Vivienne. Not when you’re mine.”
“You keep saying that,” I snapped. “But I’m not yours. You bought a performance. That’s all.”
He stepped closer. “Then don’t forget your lines.”
By the time we got back to the penthouse, I was exhausted.
He walked ahead of me, unlocking the door with his thumbprint. The space inside was minimalist and cold, just like him.
I headed toward one of the rooms, hoping to shut the door in his face.
“Vivienne.”
I froze.
He didn’t move closer. Just stood by the wall, watching me.
“You surprised me tonight.”
I turned slowly. “That I didn’t slap you?”
“That you smiled when you needed to.”
I didn’t reply.
He nodded. “Your bedroom is the one on the right. Mine’s across the hall. Stay out of my office. Don’t bring strangers here. And remember this…”
He stepped into the shadows of the hallway.
“… every eye that matters is still watching.”
He disappeared into his room.
I stood there alone, wrapped in silence.
My skin still burned from his touch. My mind still replayed Liam’s voice.
This wasn’t a marriage.
It was a trap.
And I had just walked into it willingly.
- Writer
