CHAPTER SEVEN.
783 Words
The Blackwood estate was not what she expected. She had imagined something sleek, modern. Instead she got the opposite of her imagination,it was mesmerizing, the mansion rose like a fortress of stone and glass, it gave old world elegance blending with modern edges. The huge iron gates swung wide open at their approach, guards nodding them through.
Inside the mansion, the air was warm, scented faintly of cedar and smoke. An old butler escorted them through the halls lined with portraits of men with the same features, the same silver-threaded hair, they all looked alike.
Finally, the doors to the dining room opened, making their arrival known.
She halted for a brief second.
At the far end of the long oak table stood a man. Tall, broad shouldered, black hair threaded with silver. And when he lifted his gaze, she saw them at last, eyes of silver-blue that seemed to pierce straight through her soul.
Her breath caught.
The sketch in her notebook had come to life.
Damian's wolf surged with triumph, snarling one word in his mind. Mate.
The silence stretched for a long heartbeat as Elysian stood frozen in the doorway.
The man at the far end of the room was nothing like she had imagined, he was more. His presence filled every part of the vast chamber effortlessly, as though the high ceilings and carved stone were built simply to frame him. Black hair fell slightly forward, streaked with strands of silver. His suit was sharp, impeccably tailored, but his eyes rooted her in place, it stood out. A silver-blue so vivid, so unnaturally striking, they seemed to glow. She had never seen something so beautiful and intriguing before.
Her heart stuttered.
"Miss Elysian," the butler said smoothly, breaking the silence. "May I present Mr. Damian Blackwood."
Damian.
The name coiled through her chest like smoke.
"Welcome to my home," Damian said at last, his voice a low rumble.
Elysian blinked, forcing herself to move, to breathe. She managed a polite nod, though her throat was suddenly dry. "Thank you, ... for inviting me, Mr. Blackwood."
William stepped forward, his hand at the small of her back, grounding her. "It is an honor. Not every CEO bothers to meet models in person." He smiled.
She had completed forgot he was there the whole time.
Damian's gaze flicked to William briefly, then back to Elysian. "Well, not every model is Elysian."
Her cheeks warmed, light shade of pink. She opened her mouth to respond, but the butler motioned toward the table.
The dinner spread was as extravagant as the room, it was beyond massive. Roasted meats, fine cheeses, rare wines that whispered 'old'. Elysian sat across from Damian, painfully aware of the weight of his gaze.
He did not look at her like most men usually did. There was no casual appraisal, no lingering gaze as charm. He looked at her as though he already knew her, as though he had been waiting for her.
"So," William began, perhaps to cut the tension, "this.... campaign, you said in your proposal that you wanted something that reflects timeless strength? Yes?"
"Yes," Damian said, though his eyes never left Elysian. "Strength. Legacy."
William nodded, flipping through his notes. "We can arrange sets that convey that—"
"I do not want sets," Damian interrupted.
William blinked. "No..no sets?"
"I want her," Damian said simply.
Elysian's pulse jumped. "Me?" Her eyes finally meeting his.
Damian's lips curved faintly, though his eyes stayed serious. "You are the campaign, Elysian. Not the clothes, not the backdrop. Just You."
William let out a low whistle. "That is .... Unexpected."
"It is honest," Damian countered. "There are thousands of models. But none who look like you." His gaze softened. "None who are you."
Elysian dropped her eyes to her plate, heat rising in her cheeks. She was not used to being spoken to like that. Compliments usually felt rehearsed, or transactional. But this...this felt like different .
She regained her composure. "And what exactly would you want me to do?"
"Be yourself," Damian said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That is all."
William glanced between them, suspicion flickering in his eyes. He cleared his throat. "Well, Elysian is versatile. She can adapt to whatever you need. But, of course, we will need specific contracts, schedules, and—"
"All of that will be arranged," Damian said dismissively, still watching her.
The wolf stirred restlessly inside him, growling for more, for touch, for claim. Damian kept his grip tight on his wine glass, knuckles turning white.
Courses moved on, light conversations here and there, between William and Elysian. Damian only watched, barely interacted or said a word.
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