Chapter3
1307 Words
EMILIA POV
His hands slipped into his pockets. "I was hoping to see my Fiancé."
I clarified, "Your contract fiancée."
His eyes grew gloomy. "Details."
He stretched out, his fingertips almost brushing my wrist, but I looked away.
I felt a spark fly through me. I recoiled. "You're already violating the no-touching rule?"
Damian grinned. “I didn't sign that part of the deal." I gazed at him in wonder. "Pardon me?"
"I accept your terms, Emilia. However, I never claimed to follow them all.” He had a pleasant, playful voice, yet there was something menacing in his eyes.
My heart was racing. "That is unfair."
"Life isn't either," he whispered.
The store doors swung open before I could protest.
A pale man in a dark suit hurried inside. He spoke softly into Damian's ear.
Damian's whole attitude shifted.
He clenched his jaw. He balled his hands into fists. For the first time since I had known him, his normally icy demeanor broke. Then, his face unreadable, he turned to face me.
"Plans changed," he answered firmly.
"This evening is the wedding." I felt sick to my stomach. "What?"
His gloomy eyes met mine. "We cannot afford to wait."
I was filled with panic. "Why? What is going on?”
Damian remained silent.
He reached for my hand instead. He didn't let go this time.
I realized as I looked into his storm-like eyes that I had just entered a much more frightening situation than I could have ever dreamed.
Without saying another thing, he departed. I ended up standing next to him in front of the priest in the evening, not at home.
The booming in my ears drowned out the priest's words, which reverberated throughout the opulent church. Under the enormous chandeliers, I remained motionless while the marble floor was covered in lengthy shadows from their golden light.
The aroma of roses and pricey perfume adhered to my skin like a second layer of oppression, and the air was heavy with expectancy.
Standing next to me was Damian Blackwood, a tall, strong, and completely uncaring figure who seemed invincible. He hadn't looked at me since I walked down the aisle. My fingers whitened as I held the bouquet tightly.
There was no wedding here. Under the guise of romance, it was a transaction, sealed in writing and murmurs. "Emilia," said the priest kindly. I parted my lips against my will.
"Yes, I do."
The words clicked into place like a lock. When it was his turn, Damian didn't think twice. "Yes, I do."
No feeling. No warmth. Just mechanical precision, chilly. The rings, which represented a falsehood from which neither of us could get away, were placed on our fingers. "You can now give the bride a kiss."
My breath caught. With my heart racing, I turned to Damian. When his storm-gray eyes finally locked with me, something flared in their depths for the first time. A caution. An examination.
His fingers brushed my skin like ice as his hand rose to my chin. He raised my face, not tenderly, not affectionately, but as though to make a point. He then gave me a kiss.
It was well-organized, swift, and came to an abrupt finale. But it was heavy on my bones, leaving marks I couldn't understand.
The visitors applauded. Cameras flashed. The deception was accepted by everyone. And Damian Blackwood had just bought my soul.
An Open Platform for Outsiders The ballroom felt oppressive. A sea of strangers drinking champagne and giving vacuous congrats while wearing pricey suits and designer outfits.
I watched Damian from a distance as I stood by the opulent staircase. Even on his wedding night, he was surrounded by men in smart black suits who were talking about business.
As though he didn't care about this day. I took a glass of wine from a waiter as he walked by and gulped half of it down at once.
"You might want to slow down, Mrs. Blackwood."
I made a quick turn. Beside me was a woman whose emerald-green clothing fit her body like silk.
Something deadly sparkled in her dark eyes. I tensed up. "Are you, too?"
She grinned.
"Celeste Aldridge."
It hit me like a smack of recognition. Damian's ex-lover, according to tabloids, was Celeste Aldridge.
The person he nearly wed. Her lips twisting into something too harsh to be friendly, she swirled her glass of champagne. "Have a great big night?"
I made an effort to grin. "As much as a business merger is enjoyable."
She grinned more broadly. "At least you recognize yourself."
My skin pricked at something in her tone. Her voice dipped lower as she leaned in. "You know you're not the first."
I stiffened. "Pardon me?"
She took her time sipping her champagne. "Damian has previously taken advantage of women, including you. The first person foolish enough to sign the deal is you.”
A shiver ran up my back. Celeste put her drink down. "Mrs. Blackwood, exercise caution. Damian consistently wins the game you're playing.”
She turned and vanished into the crowd with one last knowing smile. Her comments weighed heavily on my chest as I stood there, holding my glass securely. What was she trying to say?
What had I gotten myself into, anyway? Without a Wedding Night, There was silence in the penthouse.
I entered, feeling as though every step was heavy due to the weight of my gown. The atmosphere seemed heavy with something else, although the air smelt of champagne and roses.
Anxiety.
Damian was already inside, his suit jacket thrown aside as he stood close to the glass. He stood rigidly with his back to me. I paused close to the entrance. "Will we discuss what just transpired?"
He spoke in a chilly tone. "What section?" I tightened my jaw.
"The part where I was just warned about you by your ex-lover."
“The part where I don't know what I've just entered.”
His eyes were unreadable as he turned. "You entered precisely what you were expecting."
I laughed resentfully.
"Did I?"
Damian's face remained unchanged. "Celeste enjoys causing trouble." Disregard her.
"You only have that to say?" I lost my temper.
"She gave the impression that I was merely a piece in your game." He moved in closer. Then another. Until there was almost no air between us.
Silently, "You are," he said. "And so am I."
I inhaled deeply as my heart pounded against my ribs.
"What is meant by that?"
He lifted his hand and brushed a flyaway hair away from my face. I felt a chill even though the touch was hardly there.
"Emilia, I don't owe you any answers."
He spoke in a gentle yet steely tone. "This is not a love story; it's a contract."
Painfully, something twisted within me. His hand was pushed away by me.
"So you are not allowed to touch me." There was a spark of something unreadable in his eyes as his gaze darkened. Then he retreated with excruciating composure. "All right." He turned aside and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs.
"Down the hall is where your room is."
I blinked. "You're not anticipating—" "No." His voice was decisive.
"That type of marriage isn't what this is."
I paused at something in his voice. There was more to Damian Blackwood than coldness. He had something to conceal. I let out a trembling breath.
"All right. Because I will also breach the rules if you do.”
His lips formed a ghost of a sneer. "Then we comprehend one another."
I pivoted on my heel and bounded from the room. But my thoughts were racing when I closed the door.
Celeste's caution. Damian's concealment. The odd haste of our hastily scheduled wedding. There was a problem. And I was going to discover just what.
- Writer
