The Gala
963 Words
“Smile.”
Damian’s voice was low in my ear as we stepped out of the car.
His hand was on my lower back. Burning through the thin silk of my dress. Rule 1: No touching. He broke it every time we were in public.
We were at the Metropolitan Gala. 300 of New York’s richest, most powerful people. All watching.
All watching Mrs. Black.
I smiled. It hurt my face. “Like this?”
“Better.” His hand slipped to my waist. Possessive. Claiming. “And don’t look at other men tonight.”
I shot him a look. “Excuse me?”
“That wasn’t in the contract,” I added quietly.
“Rule 4,” he said smoothly. “I make new rules when necessary.”
Before I could argue, cameras flashed.
“Damian! Over here!”
“M.. Black! Mrs. Black!”
He pulled me closer. His arm wrapped around my waist like I belonged there.
“Smile for the cameras, wife.”
Wife. The word still felt foreign on my tongue.
We moved through the crowd. Every woman stared. Every man nodded respectfully. Fearfully.
Then she appeared.
Tall. Blonde. Red dress that cost more than my old apartment.
“Damian.” Her voice was honey. Poisoned honey. “Long time.”
She kissed his cheek. Too close. Too familiar.
Damian’s jaw tightened. But his arm stayed locked around me.
“Isabella,” he said coldly. “This is my wife, Ava.”
Her blue eyes swept over me. Assessing. Judging. Finding me lacking.
“Wife?” She laughed. Soft. Mocking. “Since when, Damian? You said marriage was a cage.”
“3 days,” I said before he could. My voice was steady. I wouldn’t let her see me shake.
Isabella’s smile sharpened. “How… sudden. Damian never does sudden. Unless there’s something he wants.” She turned those eyes on me. “He’ll get bored, you know. He always does. Girls like you don’t last long with him.”
Girls like me. Broke. Desperate. Temporary.
Damian’s hand tightened on my waist. Hard enough to bruise.
“Isabella.” One word. A warning. A blade.
She finally looked away. “Enjoy the night, Mrs. Black.” She stressed the title like it was a joke. “I’m sure it won’t last.”
She walked off, hips swaying.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“You didn’t have to—” I started.
“Don’t talk to her again.” Damian’s voice was flat. Final. “And don’t look at other men when you’re on my arm. Understood?”
I turned to face him. “You can’t make rules after—”
His hand slid up to my jaw. Fingers gripping, not hurting. Just claiming.
“Ava.” My name on his lips was a threat. “When you’re with me, you’re mine. In public. That means no one else looks at you. No one else talks to you. No one else touches you.”
Rule 1: No touching.
His thumb brushed my cheekbone. Slow. Possessive.
“Understood?”
The crowd was watching. Cameras were flashing.
“Understood,” I whispered.
“Good girl.”
My knees almost buckled.
Later, on the balcony away from the crowd, I tried to breathe. The dress was too tight. The night was too much.
“Let go,” I muttered, pulling at his hand on my waist.
“No.” He didn’t look at me. He was watching the city below. “They’re still watching.”
“There’s no one out here.”
He turned. Grey eyes dark in the moonlight. “I’m still watching.”
My breath caught.
“You’re jealous,” I accused. Soft. Reckless.
“I don’t do jealousy.” He stepped closer. Backing me against the railing. “I do ownership.”
His hand came up to my neck. Not squeezing. Just resting there. A reminder.
“You signed the contract, Ava. You belong to me for 6 months. My name. My ring. My rules.”
My pulse hammered under his palm.
“And if I don’t like your rules?”
His mouth curved. Not a smile. A predator’s grin.
“Then you’ll learn to like them.” He leaned down. His lips stopped a breath from my ear. “Because I don’t share what’s mine.”
The word “mine” sent heat crawling up my spine.
Footsteps. We broke apart just as one of his board members walked onto the balcony.
Damian’s arm went back around my waist instantly. Like we’d never been apart.
“Ah, Mr. Black. Mrs. Black.” The man smiled. “You two look… very in love.”
Damian’s thumb stroked my hip. Slow. For show.
“We are,” he said smoothly. Then he looked down at me. Grey eyes burning.
“Say it, Ava.”
My heart pounded. This wasn’t in the contract.
“Damian—”
“Say it.” His voice dropped. Only for me. “Tell him you love me.”
Lie. It was just a lie for the merger. Rule 2: No feelings.
But his eyes dared me to disobey him.
I swallowed. “I… love him.”
The words tasted like ash.
Damian’s smile was slow. Satisfied. Dangerous.
The board member left, convinced.
Alone again, Damian didn’t let go.
“You did well,” he murmured. His lips brushed my temple. Barely a touch. But it burned.
“Get your hands off me,” I hissed.
He pulled back just enough to see my face.
“No.” His thumb traced my bottom lip. “Not until I say so.”
Rule 1 shattered into pieces.
And deep down, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to let go.
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- Writer
