The Proxy's Possession

The Proxy's Possession Chapter 4 by Harrdy😘❤️.

My father’s question haunted me the entire ride back from the hospital.

What have you done, Bella?

The words looped endlessly in my mind as the city blurred past the tinted windows of Damien’s black Mercedes. Beside me, Damien remained calm and unreadable, scrolling through emails on his phone like he hadn’t just turned my entire life upside down.

I stole a glance at him.

Perfect posture. Sharp jaw. Expensive charcoal suit fitted to his powerful frame like armor. Every inch of him radiated control.

Meanwhile, I felt like I was drowning.

“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.

Heat crept into my cheeks instantly. “I wasn’t.”

A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “Another lie.”

I crossed my arms defensively and turned toward the window. “You seem to enjoy accusing me of lying.”

“That’s because you do it badly.”

The calm arrogance in his voice irritated me more than it should have.

“You think you know everything about me after one day?”

That got his attention.

He lowered the phone slowly and turned his full focus on me. The intensity of those storm-gray eyes made my pulse stumble.

“No,” he said evenly. “I think you’ve spent your entire life making yourself smaller for other people.” His gaze flicked briefly over my face. “You apologize before speaking. You hide what you feel. And when someone hurts you, you excuse them instead of defending yourself.”

I stared at him in shock.

The worst part?

He was right.

The silence stretched too long.

Damien’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. “I’m not your enemy, Isabella.”

My throat tightened unexpectedly.

“That’s the problem,” I whispered.

Because enemies were easier.

Enemies didn’t make my chest ache when they paid for my father’s treatment. Enemies didn’t look at me like I mattered.

And enemies definitely didn’t make me feel dangerously safe.

The car finally pulled into the underground garage of Voss Tower. Before I could reach for the door handle, Damien caught my wrist gently.

“Tonight,” he said quietly, “a lot of powerful people are going to study you very carefully.”

Anxiety twisted inside me immediately.

“They’ll compare me to Elena.”

“Yes.”

“And if they realize—”

“They won’t.”

The certainty in his voice should have reassured me.

Instead, it terrified me how absolute he sounded.

Damien’s thumb brushed once across the inside of my wrist before he released me. “Go upstairs and get ready. Dinner starts at seven.”

“What exactly is this dinner?”

“A test.”

My stomach dropped.

He opened the car door and stepped out smoothly before I could ask another question.

---

Three hours later, I stood frozen in front of the mirror inside the penthouse dressing room.

I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.

The midnight-black gown Clara had chosen clung to my body like liquid silk, leaving my shoulders bare and hugging every curve before falling elegantly to the floor. Diamond earrings sparkled against my skin, and my hair had been swept into soft waves cascading down one shoulder.

I looked sophisticated.

Powerful, even.

Like someone who belonged beside Damien Voss.

The thought felt dangerously addictive.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“You’re going to make me late, little wife.”

My stomach flipped at Damien’s voice.

I stepped out of the dressing room slowly.

And stopped.

Damien was waiting near the windows in an all-black suit with no tie, the top buttons of his crisp white shirt undone slightly. He looked devastatingly handsome in a way that should honestly have been illegal.

For a long moment, he simply stared at me.

Not casually.

Not politely.

Hungrily.

The temperature in the room seemed to shift.

“Jesus,” he murmured under his breath.

Heat rushed into my cheeks.

“You clean up nicely too,” I said before I could stop myself.

One dark eyebrow lifted.

“That sounded suspiciously like flirting.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Mm.”

The knowing look he gave me made my pulse race embarrassingly fast.

Damien crossed the room slowly until he stood directly in front of me. His fingers brushed lightly against my bare shoulder, trailing down my arm with deliberate slowness.

“You’re nervous,” he observed.

“Can you blame me?”

“No.” His gaze locked onto mine. “But I need you to understand something before tonight.”

“What?”

His expression hardened slightly.

“Anyone who attacks you attacks me.”

The quiet menace in his voice sent chills through me.

Before I could respond, he reached behind me and fastened an emerald necklace around my throat. The jewels were breathtaking — deep green stones surrounded by diamonds that probably cost more than my parents’ house.

I touched it instinctively. “Damien… this is too much.”

“It matches your eyes.”

My breath caught.

The compliment was so unexpected, so quietly sincere, that for one dangerous second I forgot how to think.

His fingers lingered briefly against the back of my neck.

Then he stepped away.

“Come on, Isabella.” His voice returned to cool control. “Let’s introduce my wife to the wolves.”

---

The private dining hall occupied the top floor of an elite members-only club overlooking the city.

The moment Damien and I entered, conversation slowed.

Every head turned toward us.

Or more specifically—

toward me.

Anxiety crawled up my spine instantly.

Men in expensive suits watched with sharp curiosity. Women dripping in diamonds assessed me with practiced social precision. This wasn’t just dinner.

It was evaluation.

Damien’s hand settled firmly against my lower back.

Grounding.

Possessive.

Protective.

I couldn’t tell which.

“Mr. Voss,” an older silver-haired man greeted smoothly as we approached the main table. “And this must be your beautiful bride.”

His smile never reached his eyes.

Damien’s posture shifted subtly beside me — almost lazy, but dangerous underneath.

“This is Isabella Voss.”

The man blinked.

Just briefly.

But I caught it.

Not Elena.

The realization flashed across his face before he masked it.

Interesting.

“So it is,” he said carefully.

Damien’s fingers tightened slightly against my waist.

A warning.

The man immediately smiled wider. “Congratulations to both of you.”

We moved through the room slowly, greeting shareholders, executives, and politicians. I stayed quiet at first, terrified of saying the wrong thing.

But after a while, I noticed something.

People were watching Damien more than me.

Watching his reactions.

Watching how close he kept me.

Watching the way his eyes followed me every second.

And slowly, realization settled in.

They were afraid of him.

Not just respectful.

Afraid.

The knowledge changed something inside me.

Because if Damien Voss — one of the most powerful men in the country — had publicly chosen to stand beside me…

then maybe I wasn’t as powerless as I’d always believed.

Dinner began shortly after.

Halfway through the second course, a glamorous blonde woman entered the room late.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

She was stunning in a sharp red dress, her confidence radiating with every step. But it was the way her eyes locked onto Damien that made my stomach tighten.

History.

There was history there.

“Vanessa Laurent,” Damien said coolly as she approached.

She ignored his greeting completely.

Her eyes landed on me instead.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

“Well,” she said softly, “this is unexpected.”

Every instinct in my body went tense.

Vanessa smiled at me, but it was the kind of smile women used before drawing blood.

“I heard Damien was marrying Elena Harrington,” she continued smoothly. “Imagine my surprise when I discover he replaced her overnight.”

The room fell silent.

My heartbeat thundered.

This was it.

The exposure I’d been dreading.

I opened my mouth, panic rising—

Then Damien spoke.

“Careful, Vanessa.”

His voice was calm.

Deadly calm.

Vanessa’s smile faded slightly.

Damien leaned back in his chair, one arm draped behind mine possessively.

“My wife’s identity is not up for discussion.”

The warning in his tone sliced through the room.

But Vanessa wasn’t finished.

“She’s pretty,” she said lightly, studying me like prey. “But are we really supposed to believe this was planned?”

Humiliation burned through me.

I could feel everyone watching.

Waiting.

Judging.

Then Damien did something that shocked the entire room.

He turned toward me fully, cupped my face gently in one hand, and kissed me.

Slowly.

Thoroughly.

Possessively.

The entire dining hall disappeared beneath the heat of his mouth.

Gasps sounded around us.

When he finally pulled back, my breathing was uneven and my lips tingled.

Damien’s eyes never left mine as he spoke.

“I don’t explain my choices to anyone.”

The message was clear.

Conversation over.

Vanessa’s face tightened with poorly hidden anger.

And suddenly, terrifyingly, I understood something important:

This man wasn’t pretending.

Whatever obsession Damien Voss had developed for me—

it was becoming very, very real.