The Price of Pretending
1634 Words
The Next Morning – The Gala Invitation
The smell of coffee filled the penthouse when Lena finally emerged from her room, dressed in a loose t-shirt and shorts. Damian sat at the kitchen counter, already in a crisp black suit, sipping his usual black coffee like a damn Greek god of power and control.
He didn’t look up. “You’re late.”
She rolled her eyes, pouring herself coffee. “It’s barely eight.”
“Our flight leaves in two hours.”
Lena choked on her sip. “Flight?”
Damian slid an invitation across the counter. “Gala in Paris. My father’s company is hosting it.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait, Paris?”
He glanced up. “Problem?”
Lena set her mug down. “Oh, no. I just love finding out I have to fly across the world last minute.”
He smirked. “Get used to it.”
She scowled. “And what exactly do you expect from me at this gala?”
He stood, buttoning his jacket. “You’ll look stunning, smile at the cameras, and dance with me when I tell you to.”
Lena almost dropped her mug. “Dance?”
“You do know how to dance, don’t you?”
She hesitated. “Well, I—”
His gaze sharpened. “You don’t.”
Lena groaned. “Not ballroom dancing, okay?”
Damian sighed. “Of course.”
She crossed her arms. “Well, sorry, Mr. Billionaire. Not all of us grew up waltzing in ballrooms.”
A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Good thing you have me, then.”
Her brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
He stepped around the counter, reaching for her hand. “It means you’re about to learn.”
Lena stiffened. “Now?”
“We leave in two hours. Unless you want to make a fool of yourself, yes—now.”
Before she could protest, Damian pulled her towards him.
Her breath hitched.
One of his hands settled on her waist, the other guiding her fingers to rest against his chest, Her body flared with heat, “This is stupid,” she muttered.
“Relax.” Damian whispered
He started moving—slow, controlled steps, guiding her effortlessly, Lena focused on his chest, trying to ignore the way his firm grip sent shivers down her spine.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
She hesitated—then lifted her gaze, Big mistake, Because the moment their eyes met, something shifted,The world faded.
For a split second, there was no contract. No fake engagement.
Just them.
Her lips parted.
His gaze flickered downward.
And suddenly, it felt like he might actually kiss her, The thought sent her heart slamming against her ribs.
She panicked.
“Okay! Lesson over!”
She pulled back, her breath unsteady.
Damian chuckled. “What’s wrong? Afraid you might like it?”
Lena shot him a glare. “No. I just don’t need you messing with my head.”
He smirked. “Too late for that.”
Her pulse hammered.
Because the worst part?
He was right.
The jet cut through the sky like a sleek predator, its interior dripping with understated luxury—plush leather seats, crystal glasses, a mahogany bar stocked with bottles that probably cost more than Lena’s entire savings account.
But the most suffocating thing on this plane?
Damian Blackwood.
She could feel him across her radiating cool, effortless power as he worked on his laptop. He hadn’t spoken much since they boarded, which should have been a relief.
It wasn’t.
Because silence did nothing to erase what had happened before they left, The way his hands had gripped her waist as they danced, The way his eyes had dropped to her lips like he was seconds from claiming them.
She swallowed hard. It was just acting. That’s what she had to remind herself. “So, tell me,” she said, breaking the silence, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”
Damian didn’t look up from his screen. “You already know. We play the part of the happy, devoted couple. You keep up the act, and we both walk away unscathed.”
Lena crossed her arms. “Any particular rules I should follow?”
His silver eyes finally met hers. “Don’t embarrass me.”
She huffed a laugh. “Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”
His gaze darkened slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned back to his laptop, dismissing her entirely.
Lena exhaled sharply, staring out the window.Tonight, she would be on display—not just for the media but for the entire business elite. The wolves of high society would be watching, waiting for the slightest crack in their story.
And Damian?
He’d be watching her, too.
But for different reasons.
Paris – The Gala
The ballroom of the Hôtel de Crillon was something out of a dream—glittering chandeliers, champagne towers, and a sea of expensive people dressed in couture.
Lena felt exposed the moment they stepped inside, She wasn’t used to this world. Damian, on the other hand, owned it, His presence was magnetic—broad shoulders, crisp black tux, an expression of effortless arrogance as he guided her inside with a hand resting firmly on the small of her back.
The second they walked in, heads turned, A murmur rippled through the room, It wasn’t just curiosity. It was shock.
Damian Blackwood was the ultimate bachelor. A man who never let anyone close, And now?
He had her on his arm.
“Smile,” he murmured near her ear. “You’re supposed to be madly in love with me.” Lena’s lips curved into a perfect fake smile, even as her heart pounded.
And so the act began.
⸻
The first half hour passed in a blur of polite conversations and cold champagne. Lena had almost convinced herself that she could handle this.
Until he appeared.
“Damian, always a pleasure,” a deep voice drawled, Lena turned—and her breath hitched.
The man before them was devastatingly handsome, all golden charm and sharp blue eyes. “Christian Langford,” Damian said, his tone ice-cold.
Christian smiled, ignoring Damian entirely as his gaze swept over Lena with slow, deliberate appreciation, “And you must be the mysterious fiancée,” he said, reaching for her hand.
Damian tensed instantly.
But before he could intervene, Lena let Christian take her hand, his lips brushing lightly over her knuckles.
“A beauty,” Christian murmured. “I must say, Damian, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Damian’s jaw tightened. Lena fought the urge to smirk.
So this was Christian Langford—the billionaire investor who had competed with Damian on multiple deals, And, if the barely controlled tension was any sign, they hated each other.
Christian turned back to Lena, his gaze sharp with amusement. “How ever did you tame him?”
Lena tilted her head. “Oh, you know. Patience. Stubbornness. A little bribery.”
Christian laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “I knew I liked you.”
Damian’s grip on Lena’s waist tightened.
Lena’s stomach flipped.
He was jealous.
The realization sent a thrill through her,Christian seemed to notice, too, because his smirk deepened.
“You must allow me a dance, Lena,” he said, offering his hand. “If your fiancé permits, of course.”
Damian’s voice was razor-sharp.
“She’s not available.”
Lena blinked.
Christian raised an eyebrow. “Oh? She seems quite available to me.” Damian’s grip on her waist burned.
“We don’t share,” he said smoothly.
Lena’s breath hitched.
We?
Christian smirked. “Shame. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You never did play well with others, Blackwood.”
With a final wink at Lena, Christian sauntered off, leaving an unbearable tension in his wake.
Lena turned to Damian, her voice low, teasing.
“Jealous, Mr. Blackwood?”
Damian exhaled sharply, guiding her toward the dance floor. “Don’t test me, Lena.”
She smirked. “I think I already did.”His grip on her hand tightened, And just like that, they were dancing.
The moment his arms wrapped around her, Lena forgot everything. Forgot they were pretending. Forgot about the crowd watching them.
All she knew was the way Damian’s body felt against hers—solid, unyielding, demanding.
“You like making me jealous,” he murmured.
Lena’s breath shook.
“You were jealous?” she countered, tilting her chin up. “Because it looked like you were just being possessive.”
His fingers brushed the bare skin of her back“You enjoyed his attention,” he said, ignoring her deflection.
“Maybe.”
Damian’s grip tightened.
Lena swallowed hard.
“Careful, Lena,” he warned, his voice low, dangerous. “I don’t like sharing.”
Her pulse spiked.
The way he looked at her right now—like he was seconds from dragging her off the dance floor—sent heat curling low in her stomach.But before she could respond, he did something that shattered her control.
He pulled her flush against him.
Chest to chest.
Breath to breath.
Their lips an inch apart.
Lena’s mind spun.
This wasn’t part of the act.
This wasn’t for the cameras.
This was real.
“Tell me,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over hers, “is it my attention you want?”
Her heart slammed against her ribs, This was dangerous. Stupid, But her body didn’t care.
And just when she thought he might kiss her—
He pulled back.
Lena sucked in a breath.
Bastard.
Damian smirked. “Don’t play with fire, sweetheart.”
Lena’s nails dug into his shoulder.
Because the worst part?
She wanted more.
- Writer
