Chapter 2

• The car ride to the gala was silent, the air between Elara and Damien thick with unspoken tension. Elara stole glances at him, his sharp profile lit by the city lights streaming through the windows. He seemed impossibly composed, as if the world itself bent to his will.
• But beneath that calm exterior, she could sense something deeper—something primal.
• “Is there something you’d like to ask?” Damien’s voice broke the silence, startling her.
• Elara blinked, her cheeks flushing. “No, I was just... thinking.”
• He turned his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Careful, Elara. You might start to believe you can figure me out.”
• “I’m not trying to figure you out,” she shot back, more defensive than she intended. “I’m just trying to understand what I’ve gotten myself into.”
• His expression softened, though his tone remained firm. “You agreed to this. Now you’re part of my world. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.”
• Easier? She wasn’t sure anything about this arrangement would be easy.
• When they arrived at the gala, the grandeur of the event took her breath away. The venue was an ornate ballroom, its high ceilings adorned with glittering chandeliers and its marble floors reflecting the soft golden light. A string quartet played in the corner, their music weaving through the conversations of the elegantly dressed crowd.
• Damien placed a hand on the small of her back as they entered, the gesture both protective and possessive.
• “Smile,” he murmured. “You’re supposed to be madly in love with me.”
• Elara forced a smile, though her heart raced under his touch. They hadn’t even discussed how to act like a convincing couple, and now she was thrown into the deep end.
• As they moved through the crowd, all eyes seemed to follow them. Whispers rippled in their wake, people leaning in to exchange words she couldn’t hear.
• “That’s Damien Blackthorn.”
• “Who’s the girl?”
• “She’s stunning... but I’ve never seen her before.”
• Elara’s stomach churned, but she kept her head high, determined not to let the scrutiny rattle her.
• “Damien,” a tall, elegant woman with piercing green eyes approached, her smile dazzling yet cold. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”
• “Lena,” Damien greeted her with a nod, his tone polite but distant. “Always a pleasure.”
• Lena’s gaze shifted to Elara, her smile sharpening. “And who’s this?”
• “Elara,” Damien said smoothly, his hand tightening slightly on her back. “My fiancée.”
• Elara’s breath caught, the weight of the word hitting her like a freight train.
• “Fiancée?” Lena repeated, her perfectly arched brows lifting in disbelief. “Well, isn’t that surprising? You’ve always been so... independent.”
• Damien’s smirk was razor-sharp. “Even the strongest leaders need a partner, Lena.”
• Elara mustered her courage and extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
• Lena took it, her grip cool and firm. “Likewise. I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
• Her words carried an edge that made Elara’s skin prickle.
• As Lena sauntered away, Elara turned to Damien, lowering her voice. “She doesn’t seem thrilled about your engagement.”
• “She doesn’t matter,” Damien replied, his gaze sweeping the room. “Focus on the role you’re playing, not the people watching.”
• Easier said than done.
• As the evening progressed, Elara found herself swept into Damien’s world. He introduced her to influential business figures, politicians, and socialites, each one more imposing than the last. Through it all, he stayed by her side, his touch a constant reminder of his dominance.
• “You’re doing well,” he murmured at one point, his breath warm against her ear.
• She shivered, though she wasn’t sure if it was from his praise or his proximity. “Thanks. I think.”
• “Now comes the final test,” he said, leading her toward the dance floor.
• Her eyes widened. “I don’t know how to dance.”
• “You don’t have to,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her close.
• The orchestra began to play a slow, haunting waltz as Damien guided her effortlessly across the floor. His movements were smooth and controlled, his grip firm yet gentle. Elara struggled to keep up, her feet stumbling slightly before falling into sync with his.
• “You’re tense,” he said, his voice low.
• “Maybe because everyone is staring at us,” she whispered back.
• “They’re staring because they envy you,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers. “You’re the woman on my arm. Remember that.”
• His words sent a confusing mix of emotions through her—pride, fear, and something dangerously close to attraction.
• As the dance ended, Damien spun her gracefully, then pulled her back into his arms. The applause from the crowd felt distant, drowned out by the pounding of her heart.
• He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You belong to me now, Elara. Don’t forget it.”
• Her breath hitched, her pulse racing. She didn’t know whether to be terrified or exhilarated.
• All she knew was that she had crossed a line—into his world, his control—and there was no turning back.
• The ride back to Damien’s mansion was cloaked in silence, yet the tension between them crackled like electricity. Elara sat stiffly, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights, while Damien reclined in his seat, exuding a calm confidence that made her nerves hum.
• Her mind raced, replaying every interaction at the gala—the whispers, the glances, Lena’s veiled warnings, and, most of all, Damien’s words.
• You belong to me now.
• She shivered at the memory. There had been something in his tone, a quiet possessiveness that made her feel both vulnerable and... protected? She pushed the thought aside. This wasn’t real. It was an arrangement, nothing more.
• When they arrived at the mansion, Damien stepped out first, offering his hand to help her from the car. His touch sent a spark through her, but she ignored it, pulling her hand away as soon as she was steady.
• “You handled yourself well tonight,” he said as they ascended the grand staircase leading to the front doors.
• “Thanks,” she muttered, unsure if it was a compliment or merely an observation.
• “You’ll need to maintain that composure,” he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “This isn’t just a game to the people in my world. They’ll test you, push you, and if you falter, they’ll tear you apart.”
• Elara stopped walking, turning to face him. “Why are you telling me this now? You’ve thrown me into this without any preparation, and now you’re warning me about how dangerous it is?”
• Damien’s expression darkened, his blue eyes flashing with something primal. “Because you need to understand what’s at stake. If you fail, it won’t just reflect on you—it will reflect on me. And I don’t tolerate failure.”
• Her chest tightened, but she squared her shoulders. “I didn’t ask for this. You chose me, remember?”
• For a moment, his gaze softened, a flicker of something almost... regretful? But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
• “You’re right,” he said quietly. “And I don’t make mistakes.”
• Before she could respond, he turned and strode into the mansion, leaving her standing alone in the cool night air.
• Elara awoke the next morning to the sound of knocking at her door. Groaning, she stumbled out of bed and opened it to find a woman in a sharp black suit holding a clipboard.
• “Miss Carter,” the woman said briskly. “I’m Maria, Mr. Blackthorn’s personal assistant. I’ve been instructed to brief you on today’s schedule.”
• “Schedule?” Elara echoed, still groggy.
• “Yes,” Maria said, stepping past her into the room. “You’ll be accompanying Mr. Blackthorn to a series of meetings this afternoon, followed by dinner with some of his associates.”
• Elara blinked, trying to process the information. “Why do I need to be there?”
• Maria gave her a tight smile. “As his fiancée, your presence is expected. You’re part of his image now.”
• Her stomach sank. She had barely survived the gala, and now she was expected to navigate the corporate world alongside Damien?
• Maria handed her a folder. “Here’s a briefing on the people you’ll be meeting and the topics they’ll discuss. I suggest you familiarize yourself with it.”
• Elara accepted the folder, feeling overwhelmed.
• “Oh, and one more thing,” Maria added. “Mr. Blackthorn asked me to remind you—appearances are everything.”
• With that, she left, leaving Elara alone with the daunting task ahead.
• By the time she joined Damien in the car later that day, Elara’s nerves were frayed. She had spent hours poring over the briefing, trying to absorb as much as possible, but the sheer volume of information left her head spinning.
• Damien glanced at her as she slid into the seat beside him. “You look pale.”
• “Thanks,” she muttered. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”
• He smirked, but his gaze softened slightly. “Relax. You’re not expected to do much today. Just smile and look engaged.”
• “Is that all your ‘luna’ is supposed to do?” she shot back, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone.
• His smirk vanished, replaced by a look of quiet intensity. “A luna’s role is far more than that. You’ll learn soon enough.”
• The weight of his words hung between them, but Elara didn’t press further. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he meant.
• The meetings were a blur of handshakes, introductions, and business jargon that Elara barely understood. Damien was in his element, commanding the room with ease. He exuded power and control, his every word calculated and precise.
• Elara did her best to follow his lead, nodding and smiling at the appropriate moments. But despite her efforts, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong.
• During a brief break, Damien leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You’re doing fine.”
• His words caught her off guard, and she turned to look at him, surprised by the rare encouragement. “Thanks,” she said softly.
• For a moment, their eyes met, and the air between them shifted. She saw something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded that made her chest tighten.
• But then he straightened, the mask of the powerful billionaire snapping back into place.
• Later that evening, as they sat at a long, elegant dining table with Damien’s associates, Elara found herself studying him. He was a mystery she couldn’t unravel, a man who seemed untouchable yet carried an undercurrent of vulnerability she couldn’t ignore.
• She was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t notice when one of the guests addressed her.
• “So, Elara,” the man said, his tone dripping with polite curiosity. “What drew you to Damien?”
• The question caught her off guard, and she hesitated, searching for the right words.
• “His confidence,” she said finally, forcing a smile. “And his... determination.”
• Damien’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but his gaze held hers, as if daring her to continue.
• “And how did you two meet?” the man pressed.
• Elara’s mind raced. They hadn’t discussed their “story,” and she was about to panic when Damien interjected smoothly.
• “We met through mutual connections,” he said, his tone light but firm. “It was an instant connection.”
• The man nodded, satisfied, and the conversation moved on.
• As the evening wore on, Elara found herself wondering if she could ever truly understand Damien Blackthorn—or if she even wanted to.
• All she knew was that her life was no longer her own. She had stepped into his world, and there was no turning back.