Chapter Four
1067 Words
I stiffened. My gaze lifted slowly, dreading the moment I’d have to face whoever I’d just offended.
The man standing over me was tall, his perfectly tailored black suit sculpted to his form as if it had been stitched onto him.
He had the kind of presence that sucked the air out of the room, demanding attention without a single word. But his face was something else entirely. Sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, piercing blue eyes that held an unsettling mix of indifference and intensity.
It was him.
The man who had drawn people’s presence when he stepped into the gala.
My eyes widened further in shock and recognition.
He was also the man who saved me from Lucas!
Except, there was no warmth or concern in his gaze now. Only disdain.
His presence felt like an unbearable weight pressing down on me. He hadn’t moved an inch, standing directly in front of me as if waiting for an apology.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to remain steady. “I—I’m sorry, sir.”
I bowed my head quickly, focusing on the shattered glass in my hands. Maybe if I just avoided eye contact, he’d let this go.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stepped closer, his polished shoes stopping just inches from where I knelt.
“I see you’re as clumsy as you are careless,” he said smoothly.
A murmur ran through the crowd as all attention was on us. My fingers clenched around the broken shards.
He’s doing this on purpose.
Humiliating me in front of people who already saw me as nothing more than a servant.
I forced myself to take a breath, carefully placing the last of the glass onto the tray before reaching for my discarded apron. I needed to get out of here.
A staff member rushed forward. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Blackwood. I’ll handle this.”
Blackwood.
The name hit me like a punch to the gut.
Damian Blackwood.
Of course. The whispers from the crowd earlier made sense now. Ruthless. Owns half the city. Cold as ice, just like his father was.
I’d bumped into one of the most powerful men in the room.
The weight of his gaze bore into me as I quickly wiped up the spilled champagne, my face burning. I needed to get away before I lost what little dignity I had left.
Just as I was about to stand, his voice cut through the air again.
“Stay down.”
I froze.
Slowly, I lifted my head. His gaze was still locked onto mine, sharp and unreadable.
“I beg your pardon?” My voice was barely a whisper, cold sweat evident on my brows.
His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but held the same level of amusement. “You made the mess. Clean it properly.”
The words weren’t loud, but they carried through the crowd like an electric current. A few people chuckled under their breath, clearly enjoying this drama.
Shame surged through me, raw and suffocating.
I should have just obeyed. Should have kept my mouth shut. But something in me snapped.
I was tired. Tired of being looked down on. Tired of men like him thinking they could treat people like me as if we were beneath them.
Slowly, I pushed to my feet, lifting my chin despite the lump in my throat.
“I already cleaned it up, Mr. Blackwood.” My voice was steady, though my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Unless you’d like me to polish the floor with my dress.”
The crowd fell silent.
His eyes flickered just for a slight second.
Suddenly a young woman sashayed towards him and snaked her arms around him. She was stunning but had such an evil look that I felt instant dislike towards her.
“Damian darling, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” She asked while her hands roamed his body.
He removed her hand from his arm as quickly as she had put it there.
“Ophelia not now.” He said in a rude and dismissive tone.
The young woman frowned at this but quickly covered it with a sly smile. She gave him a peck on his cheek and walked away.
He removed his gave from her and glared at me. Then his expression hardened, and a slow, deliberate smirk curled his lips.
“Careful,” he murmured. “You’re dangerously close to talking back to your betters.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I hated him. I hated him more than anyone I had ever met.
The staff grabbed my arm roughly. “Enough, Aurora. Apologize.”
I wanted to scream. To fight back. But I knew better.
I turned, my voice barely above a whisper. “I apologize, sir.”
The man did not look satisfied, but he also didn’t press further. He simply held my gaze for a long, unbearable moment before turning on his heel and walking away.
I stood there, trembling.
The moment he was gone, I felt the blood rush back into my limbs. The whispers around me continued, but I no longer cared.
I needed air.
I rushed toward the back entrance, shoving through the side door and into the dimly lit alley behind the venue. My breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps. I pressed a hand against my chest, willing myself to calm down.
Who the hell does he think he is?
I was furious, but more than that, I was humiliated.
And yet, a deeper, more unsettling feeling gnawed at me.
The moment our eyes met, I saw something—recognition.
Not just from me.
From him.
As if he knew me too.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the thought away. It didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything.
I just had to survive the rest of this shift and never think about Damian Blackwood again.
Later That Night
The event dragged on, but I did my best to avoid Damian. I stayed near the back of the room, making sure I was invisible.
But that didn’t stop me from feeling his gaze.
Every time I glanced in his direction, his eyes were already there, watching me.
The realization sent shivers down my spine.
Even after humiliating me, Damian Blackwood wasn’t done with me.
And for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why.
- Writer
