THE MAID'S FORCED VOW

Chapter Eleven.

By morning, the story was everywhere. Billionaire CEO Damon Cross marries in secret, no engagement announcement, no warning, just a signed certificate and a photographer who'd caught us leaving the courthouse the day before. My phone filled with messages from numbers I didn't recognize, reporters asking for comments I had no intention of giving.

"This is a disaster," I said, scrolling through headline after headline at the kitchen counter.

"It's manageable," Damon said, sliding a cup of coffee toward me. "There's a gala tonight. Half the city's board members will be there. If we show up together, calm and unified, the story dies down within a week."

"And if it doesn't."

"Then we handle it as it comes. One event at a time."

The gala was worse than I expected and better than I feared. Flashbulbs met us the moment we stepped out of the car, and Damon's hand found mine without hesitation, steady and sure in a way that made the performance feel almost real.

"Smile," he murmured against my ear. "They're watching for cracks."

"I am smiling."

"You look like you're bracing for a punch."

I laughed before I could stop myself, and the sound seemed to surprise us both. For one unguarded second, Damon looked at me the way he had in the car the night before, like I was someone worth actually knowing.

Inside, the questions came fast and pointed, curious guests circling with champagne and thinly disguised curiosity. I answered what I could and deflected the rest, and somewhere in the middle of the night, I stopped feeling like I was pretending and started feeling like I was simply standing beside my husband, whatever that word meant now.

It wasn't until we were back in the car, exhausted and quiet, that I realized how easily I'd let my hand stay in his the entire drive home.