MARRIED TO MY MISTAKE

Chapter 6 – Her Silence Was Loud

It had been a month.

Thirty long, irritatingly strange days since she first walked into his company like she belonged. Since her calm confidence disrupted everything that used to feel... predictable. Damian Cole had always prided himself on his control, especially over his empire and the people inside it. But ever since Rhea joined the firm, something about that control had started to crack. Slowly. Quietly. But unmistakably.

He remembered the first time she walked into the boardroom like it was yesterday—unbothered, unreadable, and damn near unshakeable. And now, here she was again.

Only this time, she didn’t walk into a boardroom.

She walked into his night.

The private rooftop dinner had been his assistant’s idea—something about boosting morale between department heads, making the firm feel “less stiff” in this quarter. Damian didn’t care much for social events, but when it came to reputation and appearances, he always showed up.

He was already seated at the end of the long table, sipping a neat glass of whiskey, half-listening to Thomas ramble on about some marketing data, when he noticed the shift.

It was subtle at first. A silence between two of the junior executives. Then the soft clinking of cutlery paused. A hush spread like a wave, and every single head at that table turned toward the entrance.

And then he saw her.

Rhea.

Wearing that midnight-blue satin dress like it was stitched by gods for her and only her. Her hair was swept up, neck bare, lips painted a soft red—not bold, not shy, just... perfect. Under the golden rooftop lights, she looked like a dream too dangerous to touch.

Damian froze.

He wasn’t the only one. Every man looked, but it was the way she didn’t notice any of them that got to him. She didn’t preen. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t slow down for effect.

She just walked with purpose. Like she had something to prove. Like she belonged in that room full of power—and maybe even above it.

Damian’s glass was still mid-air when Thomas cleared his throat awkwardly beside him.

“New girl cleans up nice,” he muttered, not really whispering.

“She’s not a girl,” Damian said before he could stop himself. His voice came out rougher than intended.

Thomas blinked. “Uh... sure. Woman then.”

Damian ignored him.

Rhea reached the table. She greeted the others with a small smile—one that didn’t quite touch her eyes. It never did. That was the thing about her. She never gave away more than she had to. Not in meetings. Not in passing hallways. Not even now, dressed like temptation incarnate.

“Miss Rhea,” said Catherine, rising from her seat. “You look lovely tonight.”

Rhea smiled. “So do you, Catherine.”

That was another thing. She remembered names. Faces. She treated interns and executives the same—with polite neutrality and that unreadable air that made people both curious and cautious.

Damian watched as she took the seat directly across from him. She hadn’t looked at him once.

Not even once.

It bugged him. More than he’d admit. He was used to people stealing glances at him. Reading him. Needing his approval. But Rhea? She didn’t just ignore him—she withheld herself.

The dinner carried on, conversations buzzing around him. Laughter here, soft toasts there. But Damian’s focus never left her. He watched the way she laughed quietly at one of the design lead’s jokes, how she declined wine with a simple shake of her head, how her fingers played absentmindedly with the silver ring on her pinky.

God, she was hard to read. And that made her dangerous.

Catherine leaned over to her at one point, whispering something that made Rhea’s lips twitch into a smile.

Jealousy? No. Damian didn’t get jealous. That wasn’t in his vocabulary.

But whatever he felt made him take a bigger sip of whiskey.

Finally, finally, Rhea’s eyes met his.

It was just a glance. Quick. But it hit him like a punch to the chest.

There was fire there. Cold, quiet fire. Not hatred. Not flirtation. Just... intensity. Like she was silently daring him to look away first.

He didn’t.

And neither did she.

For those five seconds, the rooftop vanished. The chatter faded. There was just that look—stubborn, challenging, and utterly magnetic.

He forced himself to break the silence between them. “I hope the company hasn’t scared you off yet,” he said, voice low, measured.

Rhea tilted her head. “I’ve seen worse,” she replied smoothly.

Damian smirked. “That so?”

She nodded. “Besides, I don’t scare easy.”

He leaned back in his chair, amused. “I’m starting to see that.”

For the first time since she arrived, her lips curved into something resembling a real smile. Not polite. Not forced. Just a hint of amusement, maybe even something warmer.

“You don’t smile much,” he added before he could stop himself.

“I smile when there’s something to smile about,” she said simply.

Their eyes locked again. And Damian felt it.

That pull.

That dangerous, stupid, undeniable pull.

What the hell was she doing to him?

“Damian.”

He blinked. Catherine had spoken.

“You spaced out,” she said softly, watching him with a curious gaze. “Everything okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

She gave him a look that said she didn’t quite buy it, but let it go.

When he glanced back at Rhea, she was talking to the man on her left. Engaged. Present. And completely untouched by the effect she’d just had on him.

Damian looked away.

He hated not being in control.

And something told him... this woman, this stranger with secrets in her eyes, was going to be his greatest undoing.