Fog lifts off the pavement as the vehicle moves quietly along wet roads, yet my eyes stay fixed beyond the glass.
Lights smear past like wet paint. Breathing feels stuck halfway. Grip on the belt won't steady itself.
What's making me do this? Was it fear that made me grab his hand?
Fury sits heavy, yes. Anger lives here, sharp and real. Yet under it - something tugs, quiet, unfamiliar.
Off to the side, Damian takes his place next to me, fingers laced together, gaze fixed ahead, saying nothing. This quiet weighs more than Marcus shouting my name just moments before.
Finally, I break it. "You - why me? Why now? Why this… offer?"
He glances at me, dark eyes unreadable. "Because you're the only one who matters tonight. And because no one else will protect you."
I laugh bitterly. "Protect me? You think you can protect me after all of this? You barely spoke at the party. You just watched."
"I watched. And I waited. For the right moment." His voice is low. Steady. Unshakable. "Timing is everything."
I turn to look at him. "Timing? That's your excuse? You let your son humiliate me for… what? Strategy?"
Stillness fills the space between them. His reply waits, caught somewhere behind his eyes.
"You underestimate me," he finally says. "I don't do anything without reason."
I glare. "And yet you let me fall into ruin anyway."
"That was never the fall you think it was."
I scoff. "Then explain it to me, Mr. Blackwood. Enlighten me."
A small smirk plays on his face, sharp and quiet. Soon you will see what he means
Breath bursts out as I whirl toward the glass. Outside, everything melts under falling water. There she is - a ghost staring back, drenched hair stuck to cheeks, dark streaks down her face, pulse hammering beneath skin.
A vehicle stops before a towering dark gate. Beyond, a grand house flickers softly through storm light. Seen it before - photos online, headlines, gossip columns. This place carries weight. The Blackwood property. Known by reputation more than fact. Cold presence. Heavy history. Now the entrance opens. My turn comes next.
Out comes Damian, holding the door wide. Down pours the rain, harder now, as my feet press into wet patches on the ground. A heavy coat lands in my arms - passed over by his hand.
"You're not going back out there," he says.
"I'm not your guest," I mutter, wrapping it around me. "I'm not even your… I don't - "
"Not your fiancé. Correct," he interrupts. "You're something better. Something temporary, yes, but necessary."
My eyes narrow as I study his face. What could he possibly mean by necessary. The word hangs there, sharp. Why does he think that explains anything. A pause stretches between us. His answer matters more than he knows
"For protection," he says again. "From your enemies. From Marcus. From the press. From the world that's about to eat you alive."
I laugh dryly. "Protection. Right. And what do you get?"
"Control."
A knot tightens in my gut. Over me - since when?
He doesn't answer directly. "Control over the situation. And… perhaps, over your heart eventually."
Heartbeat spikes. "Above my chest?" the words slip out quiet.
Softly, he answers, holding the gaze without pause. Should you allow it, that chance remains open.
A silence sits there, heavy. Clouds rumble above. Nearer it gets - the house - shadowed, waiting.
My hands shake - could be fear, maybe it's closer to wonder. Not sure which tremor wins.
Inside, we go. Right away, warmth greets my skin, brushing dampness from the rain off my clothes. Yet that warmth stays far from the space between us - cold and tight.
A figure in uniform steps forward without delay. Not once does Damian turn his head. The words come flat: get her settled upstairs.
"Yes, sir."
Heels tap against the marble, one step after another, quiet but sharp. This room stretches wide, stuffed with soft things, too much comfort. Each detail shouts money beyond my reach. Still… something tightens in my chest. A hollow sense. Like I do not belong here at all.
By the door he waits. Eyes moving. Not a sound. Stillness holds him.
Away goes my wish to flee. A shout builds up inside me. Legs ready to bolt, yet stuck they stay. Not a muscle moves.
"You're wet," he says, his voice low. "Do you want a bath, or… do you want to talk?"
"Talk," I mutter. "I need to understand this. Now."
Close now, he steps into my air. Not a thought but the warmth hits first. Smell follows. Sharp. Real. Then comes the risk humming under his skin. Strength lives there too.
"I'll be honest," he says. "This isn't simple. Nothing about tonight is simple. But it can be… manageable."
"Manageable?" I laugh bitterly. "My life is ruined. My engagement is over. My reputation… gone. And you call it manageable?"
He doesn't flinch. "Yes. Manageable. Because I can fix it. And you can survive it. If you let me."
My stomach knots. "And if I refuse?"
He just shakes his head. "No chance," he mutters.
My eyes snap shut, then open. "What did you say?"
"You won't refuse," he repeats. "You don't have the strength tonight. You will need me. And I… am offering my hand. My protection. My resources."
A tight warmth spreads behind my ribs. Could be rage. Maybe desire. Or just dread creeping in. Everything knots into one pulse.
I step back instinctively. "And what do you want in return?"
Just what's right, he murmurs, moving nearer. The stone presses into my back now. Hard. Still. A chill spreads through me.
My pulse races. "Fair? And that is?"
He leans just slightly, dangerous. "You marry me. Temporarily, yes. But publicly. In the eyes of the world. Until your reputation recovers… or until you decide you're strong enough to leave."
Flicker of an eye. "That idea makes no sense." My voice flat, but the words sharp
"No," he replies, his gaze steady on me. Not a guess - exactness shapes every word. His voice holds nothing back
That touch along my fingers - was it meant to happen? Could have been nothing. Still, a current shoots up my arm without warning. Breath catches. Knot forms low down inside. Moving back would make sense right now. Part of me screams to do exactly that.
But I don't.
He makes me angry. Yet I can't let go. That confusion? It sits heavy.
"You just… you just watched Marcus destroy me," I whisper. "And now you expect me to… to trust you?"
He tilts his head, studying me. "I don't expect you to trust me. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. But you will survive. That is the point."
My eyes lock on his. A shiver runs through me. What happens if my answer is refusal?
His gaze turns cold. "Then you face them alone."
Heavy is how I take what he said. Mother's medical costs sit there too. News keeps coming. Everyone seems turned now. Just me.
I swallow hard. "And… if I say yes?"
His lips curl into the faintest hint of a smile. "Then I will make sure no one touches you again. And Marcus… will regret ever thinking he could humiliate you."
Wind howls louder now. His face shows hard edges when light flashes. The sky booms after each flash. Night pushes against the windows stronger every minute.
It hits me then, a decision forms without clear reason.
"I… I'll consider it," I whisper.
He nods, satisfied. "Morning. You'll have until morning."
Now he walks away, stepping out. Behind, the door clicks closed. Quiet presses down, thick and still.
Beside me, the bed creaks under damp clothes. Across the room, glass catches my face - washed out, eyes wide. Not whole anymore. Still… something hums beneath
Something stirs inside me.
A flicker lights up inside. Not obedience - resistance. Drawn to someone risky, maybe ruinous... yet possibly redemptive.
Far off in the howling wind, Marcus stands his ground. Anger burns behind his eyes. He moves like shadow between flashes of lightning. Nothing escapes him now.
This won't be ending soon. I see that now.