The Mrs.
522 Words
Chapter five
Skin to skin.
Damien’s hand was warm. Calloused. Steady. Nothing like Claire expected from a man who bought people.
The elevator doors slid open. Flashes hit them before the doors even finished moving. Cameras. Voices shouting her name, his name. Mrs. Blackwood! Damien! Is it true? Twelve million?
Marta stepped between them and the crowd. “Private property,” she said, voice like steel. “Back away.”
Damien didn’t let go of Claire’s hand. He pulled her forward one step, then stopped at the threshold. Rule three. No pretending.
The cameras loved it.
Claire felt the heat rise in her face. This was the part of the deal she hadn’t planned for. The public part. The part where she had to be his wife in front of everyone and not flinch.
A reporter shoved a mic forward. “Clara Whitaker! Did you marry him for Lily’s treatment? Is the trial real?”
Claire opened her mouth. Damien’s thumb brushed over her knuckles once. Barely there. A warning. A promise. Don’t lie for me.
“Lily’s trial is Monday, 8am,” Claire said. Her voice carried over the noise. Clearer than she felt. “Mr. Blackwood funded the deposit. That’s all I’m saying tonight.”
“Is it love?” someone yelled.
Damien’s jaw ticked. He looked at Claire, not the cameras. Waiting to see what she’d do with the truth.
Claire squeezed his hand once. Then let go. She stepped half a pace away. Not far. Just enough.
“It’s a contract,” she said. “One year. Separate wings. Separate lives.” She met his eyes as she said it. “No pretending.”
The crowd reacted. Flashes went wild. Cold marriage! Billionaire bride says it’s business!
Damien’s expression didn’t change. But his hand dropped to his side. Empty now.
Marta used the chaos to guide them back inside. The elevator doors closed on the noise. Silence slammed down.
For three floors, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt charged. Like the moment before lightning.
“You didn’t have to say that,” Damien said finally. Eyes on the floor numbers.
“Yes, I did,” Claire said. “Rule three.”
The doors opened on the penthouse level. River side. East wing. Safe side.
Damien stepped out first. Paused without turning. “You broke rule one for me upstairs.”
Claire stayed in the elevator a second longer. “You broke rule two first. You answered.”
She walked out. Didn’t touch him this time. Didn’t look at his hand.
The door to her bedroom was still unlocked. She left it that way.
On the table, her new phone lit up. Same unknown number.
2:17am.
West Wing. You left the light on. D.
Claire stared at the message. Then at the door to her room. Then at the dark hallway leading back to the West Wing.
Rule one, no touching. Broken.
Rule two, no questions. Broken.
Rule three, no pretending. She’d just done that for the whole city.
Only one rule left now. Don’t enter the West Wing.
She was already standing in the hallway.
- Writer
