THE TERMS OF THE MARRIAGE

Chapter 3 — The Gala

The Hendricks Gala was exactly the kind of event Elena had spent her whole life on the edge of — close enough to see the chandeliers, never quite invited past the velvet rope. Now she walked in on Damian Cole's arm wearing a dress that cost more than her father's monthly mortgage used to, and every eye in the room found her before she'd made it ten feet.

"Smile," Damian murmured, close to her ear. "They're deciding right now whether this marriage is a scandal or a love story. Give them the second one."

"And if I don't feel like performing?"

"Then feel like it anyway. For an hour." His hand settled at the small of her back, warm even through the silk. "After that, I'll take you home."

She hated how easily her body responded to the touch — the small, treacherous warmth of it, like her skin had decided to trust him before the rest of her caught up.

The whispers followed them through the room in a low current. The Rossi girl. Cole finally settled down. Did you hear it was arranged? Elena kept her chin up and let Damian steer her through it, more grateful than she wanted to admit for the solid, certain presence of him beside her.

It was near the bar that she first noticed the man watching them too closely. Mid-forties, expensive suit, a smile that didn't reach anywhere near his eyes.

"Richard Voss," Damian said under his breath, before she could ask. "He wanted your father's company before I did. Wanted you, too, if the rumors are accurate."

"Charming."

"He's dangerous," Damian said, and for the first time all night the practiced ease dropped out of his voice entirely. "Stay away from him."

"Is that concern, Mr. Cole?"

"It's a warning." He didn't look at her when he said it. "There's a difference."

But when Voss approached them ten minutes later, all easy charm and a hand extended a beat too long toward Elena's, Damian's arm tightened almost imperceptibly around her waist — not possessive exactly, but close enough that she felt it in her spine.

"Mrs. Cole," Voss said, letting the name sit strangely in his mouth, like he was trying it on to see if it fit. "Damian's kept you well hidden. I had no idea Rossi's daughter was so —" his eyes moved over her, slow, "— striking."

"Careful, Richard," Damian said, pleasant and cold at once.

"Just an observation." Voss's smile didn't waver. "You'll have to forgive me, Elena — I knew your father for years. I was surprised he chose Cole over my offer. Mine was considerably more generous."

"My father chose what was best for his company," Elena said evenly. "I trust his judgment."

"Of course you do." Something flickered behind Voss's eyes — calculation, maybe, or a private amusement she didn't like. "Enjoy the evening. I imagine there's a great deal you don't yet know about your new husband."

He walked away before she could ask what he meant. Beside her, Damian had gone very still.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing," Damian said, too fast. "He likes to make people nervous. It's a hobby."

She didn't believe him. But she filed the moment away with the others — the way he'd said her name the first day like it wasn't new to him, the wall that went up every time she asked why her, specifically — and said nothing else about it.