Chapter13
1351 Words
Ava sat opposite the mirror, staring at the reflection that didn’t quite feel like her.
It was early afternoon, the time Damien had told her to be ready and a makeup artist hovered above her, dabbing a soft brush along the edge of her cheekbone. Her skin looked flawless, radiant even, the kind of glow she never thought she’d wear, not after the hell she’d been dragged through.
Last night, after the car ride home, Damien had handed her a dress.
A red dress.
Not just any red dress, but a stunning, short, handless Oh Polly piece with an open back and a plunging dip that screamed elegance and sin all at once. The fabric had shimmered like temptation, but Ava had stared at it blankly, her heart too heavy to appreciate its beauty. Still, she'd taken it, folding it neatly and setting it aside.
Now, sitting in front of the tall vanity mirror framed with soft lights, she felt like a stranger to herself.
The artist was young, probably in her early thirties, with dark brown curls tied in a messy bun and a warm, earthy tone to her skin tilted Ava’s chin gently.
“Almost done,” she said with a sweet smile. “Just need some finishing spray.”
A cool mist washed over Ava’s face, sealing in the carefully painted beauty. The artist stepped back to admire her work, her smile widening.
“There,” she said proudly. “Perfection.”
She helped Ava into the red dress, adjusting the sides and tugging gently at the hem until it sat exactly where it needed to tighten on the waist, hugging every curve like it was tailored just for her. Her back felt bare, and exposed, but she didn’t complain.
Then Ava stood and walked toward the full-length mirror.
And stopped.
Her breath hitched.
She didn’t recognize herself.
The woman in the mirror was stunning. Bold. Alluring. A silent flame in a red dress. Her hair was styled in soft waves that framed her face, her lips were tinted with a shade of red that matched the dress perfectly. Her eyes glowed not with joy, but with something deeper. Like pain wrapped in elegance.
She felt her throat tighten. Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare ruin it.
Her gaze dropped slightly. This man… she thought bitterly. He must have had a girlfriend. No man hires a makeup artist this good without experience. Or maybe he was just a serial player charming, rich, and manipulative. Probably had a string of women begging for his attention. What is he up to?
The makeup artist giggled behind her. “You look so beautiful, Ava. Honestly,” she gushed. “Your boyfriend sure knows what suits you.”
Ava blinked and turned to look at her.
The woman continued, her smile playful. “And he is damn fine. Girl…how did you get him? He was so specific. Told me exactly what kind of look he wanted for you. Kept saying, ‘Make her glow. Make her perfect.’ He’s so intentional. Definitely a keeper.”
Ava scoffed under her breath. Intentional?
She chuckled bitterly. “That’s the last thing you’d call him.”
Then lower, muttered so the artist couldn’t hear: “That ruthless dumbass…”
The artist collected her kit, still smiling, oblivious. “Well, good luck tonight, Ava. You’re going to turn every head.”
With a cheerful wave, she stepped out of the room, leaving Ava alone again with her reflection.
Ava stared at the mirror in silence.
Her voice came out as a whisper. “I look… so beautiful.”
The dress curved around her body like it was made from her skin. The open back made her look dangerously elegant. Sexy, even. Damien Valen knew what he wanted, he didn't just control her world, he sculpted how she looked in it.
With one last glance, Ava picked up her purse and phone from the edge of the dresser.
Every step she took toward the door echoed like a silent protest.
She didn’t know where he was taking her.
But she knew one thing for sure.
She wouldn’t go quietly.
The heels of Ava’s shoes clicked softly against the marble stairs as she descended, each step steady despite the unease coiling in her chest. The grand staircase spiraled beneath her feet like something out of a dream, with ornate banisters, golden trims, and chandeliers casting gentle pools of light but none of it mattered.
Her heart thudded with slow dread.
As she stepped off the last stair, she saw him.
Damien Valen.
He stood near the entrance of the living room, leaning against one of the sculpted columns. His frame was sharp, clean, and utterly striking. Dressed in a tailored black tuxedo that hugged his powerful build like it had been stitched to his skin, he looked devastatingly elegant. The deep midnight fabric contrasted perfectly with his crisp white shirt and the subtle sheen of his black tie. A silver watch glinted on his wrist.
But it wasn’t the clothes.
It was him.
The dominance in the way he stood, the quiet arrogance in his gaze like the world bent for him. And as his eyes lifted to meet hers, it was as if the entire house exhaled.
He looked at her.
No…he devoured her.
His gaze swept from her heels to her waist, lingered at the curve of her exposed back, then slowly traveled up to her collarbone, her lips, and finally, her eyes. There was a glint in his stare. Possession. Pride. A silent declaration that said: You’re mine.
Ava’s fingers curled around her purse. She hated that look. That unreadable, magnetic thing in his eyes made her skin burn. She hated how powerful he made her feel, how beautiful. How seen.
He walked toward her.
Each step was confident, and controlled. He stopped just inches in front of her.
Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her cheek with a tenderness that didn’t match the cruelty she’d seen in him.
“You look…” he paused, eyes narrowing like he couldn’t find the right word. “Dangerous.”
His voice was low, velvet, curling into her skin like a flame.
Ava didn’t answer. Her jaw clenched.
His hand slid from her hair to the side of her face, his thumb brushing lightly along her cheekbone. Then, in one swift move, he pulled her closer, her body pressed to his chest, her breath catching at the sudden nearness.
His lips hovered near her ear. “Every man who looks at you tonight… will know who you belong to.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
Not from fear.
From something far worse, wanting.
She could feel her willpower wavering, could feel her anger folding under the intensity of his touch, the heat of his body against hers.
But she wouldn’t break.
Not yet.
Her face remained expressionless, her back stiff.
Damien pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, and something flickered in his, maybe admiration, maybe hunger, or something more dangerous than either.
He cupped her jaw gently, possessively. “Don’t forget who you are tonight, Ava. You’re mine.”
His words lingered, sinking into her like a spell.
She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
Because part of her wanted to scream at him… and another part wanted to close the gap and kiss the man who had ruined her life.
She hated herself for that part.
Damien’s hand finally dropped from her face. He took a step back, letting the air rush between them once more.
Then he offered his arm.
“Shall we?”
Ava hesitated, lips pressed in a tight line, fury burning behind her eyes. But she slipped her hand through his arm anyway.
Because she had no choice.
And as they stepped out the door, she whispered under her breath, almost too softly to hear.
“I’ll never be yours.”
But Damien smiled beside her as if he already knew.
- Writer
