Contract with the Ice King

Chapter 7: The Interview

The necklace felt like a lead weight around my neck. The blue diamond rested right against my skin, cold and mocking. I stared at myself in the vanity mirror, adjusting the silk of my dress. Tonight was the big one—a live interview with Sarah Jenkins, the most feared gossip journalist in the city.

One wrong word, and the "love story" Damian had built would crumble into a thousand pieces.

"Are you ready?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice. Damian was standing in the doorway of my dressing room. He looked devastatingly handsome in a black suit with a crisp white shirt, the top button undone. He looked relaxed, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "Is the diamond straight?"

He walked over, his reflection appearing behind mine in the mirror. He reached out, his large hands moving toward my throat. I held my breath as his fingers brushed against my skin to center the blue stone. His touch was electric, making my pulse leap in my neck—right where he could see it.

"Your heart is racing, Elena," he murmured, his eyes meeting mine in the glass.

"I’m nervous, Damian. Unlike you, I don't lie for a living."

His eyes darkened. "I don't lie. I negotiate reality. Tonight, the reality is that you are mine, and we are happy. Do you think you can manage that?"

"I’ll do my best."

"Your best has to be perfect," he said, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous register. "Sarah will go for your throat. She’ll try to find the cracks. Don't let her."

He stepped back, and the warmth of his body left me. "The car is waiting. Let’s go."

The television studio was a hive of activity. Bright lights, cameras, and people running around with headsets. Sarah Jenkins was already sitting on the plush velvet sofa, checking her makeup in a hand mirror. She was a beautiful woman in her late thirties with hair as red as fire and a smile that looked like it belonged to a shark.

As soon as we walked in, her eyes snapped to us. Specifically, to our joined hands. Damian had gripped my hand the moment we stepped out of the car, his fingers interlaced with mine in a possessive hold.

"Damian! And the mysterious Elena," Sarah said, standing up. Her voice was like honey poured over glass. "The couple of the hour. Thank you for giving me the exclusive."

"Sarah," Damian said, his voice clipped. He led me to the sofa, sitting so close to me that our thighs were pressed together. "Let’s get this over with."

"Always so charming," she laughed, but her eyes were already scanning me, looking for a weakness.

"Three... two... one... and we're live!" the floor manager shouted.

The red light on the camera flickered on. Sarah’s face transformed into a mask of pure, glowing friendliness.

"Tonight, we have a very special treat," she said to the camera. "The man who said he would never marry, the Ice King himself, Damian Black, is here with his stunning new bride, Elena. The world wants to know... how did this happen? It feels like it was overnight."

Damian squeezed my hand. A signal.

"When you find the right person, Sarah, time doesn't matter," Damian said, his voice sounding warm and sincere. It was terrifying how good he was at this. He looked at me with a gaze so full of fake love that even I almost believed it. "I knew the moment I saw Elena that my life was never going to be the same."

"Is that so?" Sarah turned to me, her smile sharpening. "And you, Elena? A simple waitress from a local diner to the wife of a billionaire. It sounds like a fairy tale. Or a very well-executed plan. Tell me, how does it feel to hit the jackpot?"

The question was a slap in the face. She was calling me a gold digger on live television. I felt my face heat up, my throat tightening.

"I didn't hit a jackpot, Sarah," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "I met a man who saw me for who I am. Money doesn't change the way someone looks at you in the morning."

Sarah tilted her head, her eyes glinting. "How poetic. But let’s be honest, dear. There are rumors. People say your father’s medical bills were paid in full just days before the wedding. Some might call that... a transaction. Would you say Damian bought you, Elena? Or was it a trade?"

The room went silent. I could hear the hum of the lights. My heart was thumping in my ears. I felt like I was drowning.

But then, I felt Damian move.

He didn't just squeeze my hand. He shifted, leaning forward, his entire presence suddenly radiating a dark, suffocating power. He let go of my hand and draped his arm across the back of the sofa behind me, effectively shielding me from Sarah.

"That’s enough," Damian said. His voice wasn't warm anymore. It was the Ice King, and he was out for blood.

"Damian, I’m just asking the questions the public wants to know—"

"No, Sarah. You’re insulting my wife," he interrupted, his voice like a whip. He leaned in toward the journalist, his eyes turning into shards of grey ice. "Let me be very clear so there is no misunderstanding for you or your audience. Elena is a Black now. That means she is under my protection. If you ever imply again that our marriage is anything less than a choice made by two consenting adults, I will not only shut down this interview—I will shut down this entire network. I own enough of your parent company to make that happen before the next commercial break."

Sarah froze. Her professional mask crumbled, her mouth opening slightly in shock. She looked at the camera, then back at Damian, realizing she had pushed the wrong button.

"Damian, I... I didn't mean—"

"I don't care what you meant," he growled. He turned to me, his expression softening just enough for the cameras to see, but his eyes were still burning. He reached out and cupped my cheek, his thumb grazing my lower lip in a gesture that was so possessive it made the audience gasp. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

I stared at him, my heart in my throat. I knew it was a show. I knew he was just protecting his investment. But the way he looked at me—like he would burn the world down for me—made a part of me want it to be real.

"I’m fine," I whispered.

"Good." He looked back at Sarah. "We're done here. Marcus!"

The cameras were still rolling as Damian stood up, pulling me with him. He didn't wait for a sign-off. He led me off the set, his hand firm on the small of my back. He didn't let go until we were in the back of the SUV, the tinted windows shielding us from the world.

The silence in the car was heavy. My adrenaline was still spiking.

"You didn't have to do that," I said, looking at him. He was staring out the window, his chest heaving slightly. "You almost destroyed her career."

"She touched what belonged to me," he said, his voice dark and raspy. He turned to look at me, his eyes searching mine. "No one talks to you like that, Elena. No one."

"It was just an act, right?" I asked, my voice trembling. "The 'protective husband' routine?"

Damian didn't answer immediately. He reached out, his hand hovering over my hair before he pulled back, clinching his fist.

"Does it matter?" he asked. "The result is the same. You're safe."

"It matters to me," I whispered.

He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne filling the car. "Then let me give you a piece of advice, Elena. Don't look for a heart in a man who told you he doesn't have one. It’ll only get you hurt."

He turned back to the window, the ice firmly back in place. But I had seen it. I had seen the way he reacted when Sarah attacked me. It wasn't just about the contract. It was personal.

As we drove through the dark streets of Chicago, I touched the blue diamond at my neck. He said I belonged to him. He said I was under his protection. But who was going to protect me from him?

I looked at the man beside me—the man who would destroy a network to save my pride, but wouldn't even look at me now that the cameras were off. I realized then that I was in far more danger than I ever imagined. Because the Ice King was starting to feel like home, and that was the biggest lie of all.