Chapter 20 – The Dress and the Chains
488 Words
Elena stared at the silk gown laid out on the bed.
It was breathtaking—deep red, elegant yet seductive, with a slit running dangerously high. The fabric alone whispered of wealth, of a world she had no business belonging to.
Damon had made sure she would be noticed.
And she hated that it was working.
She traced a finger over the soft material, a war raging inside her. The gala is tomorrow. A night of flashing lights, wealthy elites, and eyes watching her every move.
A chance to escape.
A trap in disguise.
A knock on the bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts. Before she could respond, the door swung open, and Damon entered.
She tensed, her fingers clenching the fabric of the dress. “Ever heard of knocking?”
His gaze flickered at the gown, then back to her. “You haven’t put it on.”
“I was admiring my gift,” she said, a voice laced with sarcasm.
Damon smirked. “It’s not a gift, Elena. It’s a uniform.”
Her stomach tightened. “A uniform?”
“For the role you’ll play tomorrow.” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “The woman on my arm. The one they’ll envy. The one they’ll fear.”
Elena forced herself to meet his gaze. “And what about the one who wants to be free?”
Something flickered in Damon’s dark eyes, something unreadable. Then, in a voice softer but no less dangerous, he said, “Freedom is an illusion.”
A lump formed in her throat.
Damon reached out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. It was a gentle touch, completely at odds with the man who had trapped her in this deal.
“Put it on,” he said. “I want to see you in it.”
Her breath caught. “Now?”
His smirk deepened. “Now.”
Elena clenched her fists, heat rising in her cheeks. “You can’t be serious.”
Damon leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. “I’m always serious.”
Her heart pounded as she glared up at him. But she knew. Knew he wouldn’t leave until she obeyed.
Silently, she grabbed the dress and turned away. She expected him to walk out, but he didn’t move.
Elena whirled around. “You’re not leaving?”
Damon arched a brow. “Should I?”
Her pulse spiked. She should demand it. Tell him to get out. But that would mean showing weakness, and she refused to give him that satisfaction.
Lifting her chin, she strode past him toward the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
The moment she was alone, she exhaled shakily.
Damon Blackwell was dangerous.
Not just because of his power.
But because he was getting under her skin.
And tomorrow night, in front of the entire world, she’d have to pretend that wasn’t true.
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- Writer
