Contract with the Ice King

Chapter 3: The Ice King’s Gaze

The bedroom Damian had given me was beautiful, but it felt like a prison. The walls were a soft cream color, the bed was large enough for four people, and the sheets were made of the finest silk I had ever touched. But I couldn't relax. Every time I looked at the door, I expected Damian to walk in and demand something else from me.

Around noon, there was a sharp knock on the door. I sat up quickly, my heart racing. "Come in?"

The door opened, and Maria walked in, followed by four women in black dresses. They were pushing rolling racks filled with clothes, shoes, and jewelry. It looked like a whole boutique had just moved into my room.

"What is all this?" I asked, standing up.

"Mr. Black’s orders," one of the women said. She didn't even look at me; she just started pulling dresses off the rack. "We have six hours to turn you into a queen. There is a gala tonight, and you are the guest of honor."

"A gala? Tonight?" My stomach dropped. I had never been to a gala. I didn't know how to act, how to dance, or which fork to use. "Damian didn't tell me about this."

"Mr. Black doesn't ask. He expects," Maria whispered to me with a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, Elena. Just let them work."

The next few hours were a blur of chaos. They scrubbed my skin until it glowed. They polished my nails until they shone like pearls. They brushed my hair and styled it into soft, honey-colored waves that cascaded down my back. One of the women applied makeup—not too much, just enough to make my eyes look larger and my lips look fuller.

Finally, it was time for the dress.

It was a deep, midnight blue gown that shimmered under the lights. The fabric was so thin it felt like a second skin. It was off-the-shoulder, showing off my neck and collarbones, and it hugged my curves in a way that made me blush. It had a slit up the side that showed far more leg than I was used to.

"You look breathtaking," Maria said, her eyes shining.

I looked in the full-length mirror and gasped. I didn't recognize the woman staring back at me. I didn't look like a waitress from a diner anymore. I looked like I belonged in the Black Tower. I looked like I belonged to Damian Black.

"Mr. Black is waiting for you downstairs," the stylist said. "Don't keep him waiting."

I took a deep breath, my hands trembling. I put on the diamond earrings they gave me—they probably cost more than my father's surgery—and walked out of the room.

The penthouse was quiet as I walked toward the grand staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, Damian was waiting. He was back in a tuxedo, looking so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. He was checking his watch, his face set in that usual cold, bored expression.

But then, he heard my heels on the marble.

He looked up.

For the first time since I met him, the Ice King lost his cool. His hand, which had been adjusting his tie, froze. His grey eyes darkened, traveling slowly from my face, down my neck, over the curves of the dress, all the way to my heels. He didn't say anything for a long moment. The silence in the room became heavy, thick with a sudden, electric heat.

"Is... is it too much?" I asked, feeling self-conscious. I reached for the slit in the dress, trying to pull it closed.

Damian cleared his throat, his gaze snapping back to my eyes. His expression turned cold again, but I saw the way his chest rose and fell. He was breathing harder.

"It’s acceptable," he said, his voice lower and raspier than before.

He walked toward me, his expensive shoes clicking against the floor. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he held out his hand. I hesitated, then placed my hand in his. His skin was warm, and the moment our fingers touched, a jolt of electricity ran up my arm. He pulled me closer, so close I could smell the dark, spicy scent of his cologne.

"Remember the rules, Elena," he whispered, leaning down so his lips brushed against my ear. His breath sent shivers down my spine. "Tonight, you love me. You look at me like I’m the only man in the world. You touch me like you can’t get enough of me."

"It’s all an act, Damian," I reminded him, my voice shaking.

"Then be a good actress," he growled. His hand moved to the small of my back, pressing me firmly against his side. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my dress. "Because if anyone suspects the truth, the deal is off. And your parents will pay the price."

He led me toward the private elevator. As the doors closed, he didn't let go of me. In the small, enclosed space, the tension was suffocating. I looked at him in the reflection of the gold doors. He was staring at me, his eyes filled with a strange, dark hunger.

"You look dangerous tonight, Elena," he muttered, almost to himself.

"Dangerous?" I asked.

"Dangerous to my patience," he said, his grip on my waist tightening.

The elevator reached the lobby, and the doors opened. A wall of camera flashes hit us immediately. The reporters were everywhere, screaming questions, trying to get a glimpse of the woman who had captured the heart of the Ice King.

Damian didn't flinch. He put his arm around my shoulders, shielding me from the crowd, and whispered one last thing before we stepped out into the light.

"Smile, Elena. The world is watching."

I plastered a fake smile on my face and stepped into the chaos. I was a bird in a golden cage, and the door had just been locked.