His innocent bride

Chapter Five: A Strange New Warmth

Liana stepped into the grand dining hall, her soft footsteps echoing against the marble floor. The room was cold and elegant, a reflection of the man who owned it. Yet, the golden chandelier hanging overhead gave the space a subtle glow that softened the atmosphere.

Damien was already seated at the head of the long table, flipping through his tablet. He didn’t look up at first, but when he finally did, his gaze lingered on her.

She wore a simple ivory dress that hugged her in the right places, her soft curls falling gently over her shoulders. No makeup, no jewelry. Just her. And somehow, that made her even more stunning.

Damien's expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes before he quickly looked away.

“You’re late,” he said without emotion.

Liana blinked, caught off guard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize dinner had a set time.”

“There is now.”

She nodded and quietly took her seat across from him. The silence between them was thick, stretching through the clinking of cutlery and the soft shuffle of the maids as they served dinner. She kept her eyes on her plate, unsure of what to say, unsure of what he expected.

Damien stole glances at her. She was delicate, graceful, and too quiet for his comfort. Everything about her was the opposite of the women he had known in his world of power and control. There was something unsettling about her stillness, something unfamiliar.

And yet, he found himself watching her more than he meant to.

“I hope the room is to your liking,” he said at last.

Liana looked up, surprised by the sudden break in his cold silence. “Yes. It’s very beautiful. Thank you.”

His eyes flickered again, as though he hadn’t expected her to sound so sincere.

“I can have someone bring you a few things, if there’s anything you need. Books. A tablet. Your favorite snacks.”

She blinked again. Was he trying to be... kind?

“I already have my phone. I’m fine, thank you,” she replied softly.

Their eyes met briefly, and for a moment, the air between them shifted. Damien broke the connection first, looking away and pretending to focus on his tablet.

He had created rules for a reason. One year. No emotions. No unnecessary closeness.

But rules didn’t seem to apply when it came to her.

Later that night, Liana sat curled up in a cozy chair near the window, her phone in hand. The moonlight streamed through the tall glass, casting a silver glow across the floor. She wasn’t scrolling through social media like usual. Instead, she stared at her screen, flipping through old photos of her childhood, her mother’s smile, and her father’s proud face before the collapse.

Everything had changed so quickly. One day, she was dreaming about opening her own little boutique, and the next, she was married to a man who barely knew her name.

Her fingers paused on a photo of her in a white sundress, laughing with her best friend. She sighed and locked her screen, hugging her knees to her chest.

What was she even doing here? Living in a mansion with a man who didn’t believe in love. A man who had set strict rules to keep her at a distance.

And yet... something about him made her heart tremble.

He wasn’t just cold. There was a deep silence in him, like someone who had forgotten how to be warm.

Earlier at dinner, when he had asked if she was comfortable, she’d seen a hint of something behind his eyes. Maybe curiosity. Maybe a flicker of care.

Maybe he wasn’t as emotionless as he tried to appear.

In another part of the mansion, Damien stood in his study, drink in hand, gazing out the wide window that overlooked the city lights. His thoughts were clouded, something that rarely happened to him.

Liana’s face kept flashing through his mind. Her softness. The way she looked up at him with no fear, no manipulation, no expectations.

He hadn’t planned for her to affect him. She was just meant to fill a role. A placeholder. A name on paper to meet the demands of a board that wouldn’t stop asking questions about his personal life.

But she wasn’t acting. She wasn’t trying to impress him. She simply existed, in her own quiet way, and that made it harder for him to ignore her.

His phone buzzed on the desk, snapping him out of his thoughts.

A message from his assistant read:

Sir, the media is asking about your wife. Should we release an official statement?

His grip on the glass tightened slightly. Wife. The word still felt strange.

He typed back with sharp precision.

No. Not yet.

He set the phone down and returned to the window, staring into the distance. He didn’t trust easily. He didn’t believe in love. And yet, for the first time in years, something within him was cracking.

It wasn’t attraction. It wasn’t desire.

It was the feeling that Liana Hart, his so-called paper wife, might become the one person who could slowly dismantle his perfectly built walls.

And that thought alone scared him more than anything.