Beneath His Vows

A Stranger with a Claim

Rosa’s POV

The Veylor mansion felt like a cathedral to silence. Rosa had never been able to stand silence. She filled it with her laugh, her red curls bouncing like fire as she leaned over the kitchen table where Selene sat, quiet and thoughtful.

Selene’s black waves framed her face, her eyes soft but shadowed, like oceans with no one in them.

“You look like the walls are swallowing you,” Rosa teased.

Selene gave a faint smile. “Maybe they are.”

Before Rosa could say more, Elise entered, clipboard in hand. “You two. Mr. Veylor wants the wine cellar stocked. French reds. Take the car. Don’t waste time.”

Rosa grinned. “Finally, a field trip.”

---

The city was alive outside the gates. Rosa, of course, took control of the music. “Levitating” filled the car, followed by Lizzo and Taylor Swift, until Selene was laughing so hard she forgot to be nervous. For a while, it felt easy.

By the time they parked outside the wine shop, Rosa was humming and tossing her curls like a performer. Selene shook her head, still smiling, as they carried the list inside.

It was there, among the polished bottles and gleaming counters, that a woman approached.

She was stunning—poised, elegant, her dark hair sleek against her shoulders, her red lips curved in a knowing smile. A diamond flashed on her finger, catching the light.

“Oh,” she said smoothly, her eyes flicking between Rosa and Selene. “You must be the new staff.”

Rosa stiffened. Selene blinked. “Um—yes?”

The woman’s smile widened, sharp and practiced. “Well. I should welcome you. I’m Clara Hensley. Damian’s fiancée.”

The words landed like a shard of glass. Rosa’s mouth opened slightly. Selene’s breath caught.

“Oh—of course,” Rosa said quickly, masking her surprise with a polite smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Clara’s gaze lingered on Selene a beat too long, cool and appraising. “I do hope the house hasn’t been too overwhelming for you,” she said sweetly, though her tone carried an edge. “Damian values order. And loyalty.”

Selene lowered her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl,” Clara said softly, before gliding away to the counter, leaving the scent of roses and expensive perfume in her wake.

Rosa leaned in, whispering fiercely. “Fiancée? Since when does he have a fiancée?”

Selene swallowed hard, staring at the polished floor. “I… I don’t know.”

---

Damian’s POV

The city glowed beneath his office window, a thousand lights reflecting in his dark eyes. Damian leaned back in his chair, tie loosened, phone pressed to his ear.

“Send the contracts to my desk by morning,” he said, steady and unyielding. “No delays.”

He ended the call, but the silence that followed wasn’t peace. His thoughts weren’t on business. They were on the girl who had slipped into his home like an echo—Selene Hart.

The image of her lingered: the way her hair framed her face, the guarded innocence in her gaze. She had looked at him as if she wasn’t sure whether to fear him or… something else.

Damian’s jaw flexed. He had no space for softness. No time for distractions. But still, she remained in his thoughts, against his will.

A knock at the door. Elise stepped in, composed as always. “Mr. Veylor. Miss Hensley stopped by the wine shop earlier. She met the new staff.”

Damian’s gaze sharpened. “Clara?”

“Yes, sir.”

A pause. His fingers tapped once against the desk. When he spoke, his voice was calm—but edged with something colder.

“I see.”