Unholy Matrimony

An Uninvited Guest.

(Sapphire’s POV)

The door had barely shut after the bodyguard, when he opened the door again. This time wider.

He did that to let someone else in.

“Sir,” he said, his voice extremely neutral.

“She’s here.”

And then this visitor stepped inside.

Holy hell.

I didn’t know her name, also didn’t know who she was to Damian, but the moment I saw her I understood she wasn’t just some stranger.

The woman who entered the office carried herself like someone who belonged in glassy mansions and rooms made of velvet, her perfume drifted in before she did

. Her dress was of fine silky leather, and she had on seriously high stiletto, and her lipstick was a bold shade of red I’d never been interested to try.

Oh, she had come to seduce. Or make a statement with her outfit at least.

And I wasn’t even gonna lie, the lady before us? She was beautiful, stunning, even. But this was not the kind of beauty that softened a room. It was the type that made people squirm in discomfort. Her beauty was worn as if she had come to fight.

Her eyes moved from one end of the office space to the other like she owned it, but when it landed on me, it paused. She took me in from head to toe in one long, calculating sweep.

I stiffened.

Damian’s voice broke the silence. “Why are you here, Mira?”

Her lips curved up, an obviously practiced and perfected move. “That’s hardly a welcome, Damian, darling.”

Something inside of me boiled at the endearment.

‘Darling’ Ha!

He didn’t move toward her. His posture stayed rigid, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes flat. “You were not invited to my home. Not by me, and certainly not by my wife.” He turned to look at me.

I smiled at him softly. But I saw Mira stiffen.

But her smile didn’t falter, her eyes just flicked back to me. “And you didn’t mention you were… occupied.”

The meaning was lucid, her voice dripping with it. I felt my cheeks warm, but I refused to look away. I didn’t know who she was, but I knew one thing… I wasn’t going to shrink under her gaze.

Damian stepped closer to me, just slightly, enough that I felt the shift. “You’re not entitled to know where or how I spend my time.”

Mira arched a brow. “So it’s true then. You’ve found yourself a little distraction.”

Something inside me bristled, but I stayed quiet.

My husband’s jaw ticked. He looked as though he was barely restraining himself. “You’re mistaken if you think she… my wife… is a distraction.”

The air thickened. Mira’s smile wavered, just for a heartbeat, before she smoothed it over again.

She turned her attention back to me, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn’t quite name. “What’s your name?”

Oh, we were about to play? I almost laughed. This woman didn’t know me.

Her tone was casual, but the undercurrent wasn’t.

“Sapphire,” I said with an unbothered grin.

Her lips curved. “Unusual.”

I gave a small nod. “So I’ve been told. But it matches my eyes, no? That’s why my husband calls me ‘blue eyes’.” I said the last part with a giggle.

Damian chuckled lowly.

There was no venom or competition in my voice, no attempt to outmatch hers. But something in my calm and girly attitude seemed to throw her off more than if I had snapped back. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she masked it again.

Damian’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, unreadable, then shifted back to her. “Say what you came to say and leave, Mira. You’ve wasted enough of my time already, and besides, I and my wife were… busy.” He winked at me as he said the last part of his sentence.

I blushed. Deeply.

She tilted her head, feigning ignorance as to what he meant. “Is that what I am now? A distraction?”

“Exactly.” His tone was ice. “Don’t pretend you don’t know that, or you didn’t feel the energy when you came in my office.”

For the first time since she came

In, Mira’s composure fully cracked. Her shoulders stiffened more, her lips pressed together. But she recovered quickly, glancing at me again, her eyes calculating.

“I see,” she murmured. “So this is the reason.”

“She’s not the reason for anything you’ve done,” Damian said sharply. “Don’t insult her to excuse yourself.”

I was going to say something, but decided against it. This was their fight. And I wasn’t going to be a part of it.

I just looked at my nails and pretended to clean them.

Even though the words MU husband had said to her had hit me harder than I expected. He hadn’t said them gently, but they carried weight like a shield he’d raised in front of me without thinking twice.

Mira faltered. I saw it in her eyes as I raised my head and pulled my eyes away from my presciently clean nails, the touch of something unsettled. She hadn’t expected him to defend me. Maybe she hadn’t expected me at all.

But I supposed she had heard about his marriage, why else had she come here?

Her voice cooled. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

“You came here for exactly that,” I couldn’t help saying. “It’s written all over you. From your choice of outfit to your practice smiles and forced composure. Girl, come on.”

Silence stretched between us, thick enough to choke on.

Damian looked at me with surprise and what appeared to be… pride?

I ignored the feel his stare gave me as I stood still, hands folded in front of me, every nerve on edge. Mira’s beauty was undeniable, her sophistication obvious. For a moment, I wondered if I was supposed to feel small next to her. But instead, all I felt was steady. Grounded.

I wasn’t one to be easily intimidated or made to feel less of myself. I came from money too. And a father that was more interested in what people thought. So I knew all these tactics.

Also, for all her polished skills, her fake confidence, there was one thing she didn’t have.

Damian wasn’t looking at her.

He was looking at me.

And Mira knew it.

Her fingers tightened around her clutch, just slightly, before she forced her smile back into place.

“Well,” she finally said, her voice smooth again. “It seems I came at a bad time.”

“The worst,” Damian said flatly.

Her lips twitched, her composure slipping for the briefest moment. She gave me one last look…sharp, assessing, full of hate, maybe even envious, before turning on her heel.

The guard opened the door for her, and she swept out without another word.

When the door shut, silence rushed back in.

I exhaled slowly, my pulse still hammering.

“Who was she to you?”

My husband didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still on the door, his jaw hard. Then, finally, he said, “Someone who thought she knew me.”

I swallowed. “And did she?” I have no idea why I wanted to know that information.

His gaze shifted to me, dark and unflinching. “No.”

My breath caught, heat blooming in my chest.

And just like that, the silence wasn’t heavy anymore.

He shifted and walked closer.

“Not like you know me.