Chapter 4

The car was silent, the hum of the engine was the only sound as Carmela sat stiffly in the backseat, her hands clenched in her lap. Beside her, Damion exuded his usual air of dominance, his tailored suit immaculate and his piercing gray eyes fixed ahead.

The tension between them was palpable, but neither said a word as the car glided through the city streets toward the gala.

Carmela stole a glance at him. Even in silence, he was intimidatingly perfect. His defined jawline appeared capable of slicing through steel, and his dark hair was casually arranged, with one lock falling perfectly to create a nonchalant appearance. His cologne—a mix of earthy elegance—filled the car, causing her heart to race.

Her gaze flicked away before he could notice her staring, though her heart refused to settle. Why did she keep looking at him? Why did he have to look like that? So hot and sexy?

As the vehicle came to a halt, the whispers of reporters and photographers outside could be heard. Carmela tightened, her fingers gripping the material of her beautiful dress.

Before the driver could open the door, Damion turned to her, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. “Remember the rules,” he said quietly, his voice a low command. “You’ll play the perfect wife—smile, act happy, and don’t embarrass me. Understand?”

Carmela nodded stiffly. “Sure. Perfect couple,” she muttered, though her stomach churned at the thought.

Damion's lips formed what could be considered a smile if it weren't so strained. “Fine,” he stated, his tone allowing for no disagreement.

The door swung open, and they were immediately engulfed by the tumult outside—blinking cameras, loud journalists, and intrigued bystanders. Damion stepped out first, his every move exuding confidence and control, before extending a hand to help her out.

“Smile,” he murmured under his breath, his tone sharp despite the smile he wore for the cameras.

Carmela forced a grin, her cheeks sore as she intertwined her fingers with his. Hand in hand, they strolled along the red carpet, Damion’s hold strong and unwavering as the cameras captured each moment. His whisper touched her ear, causing an unbidden shiver to run down her spine.

“You're anxious,” he remarked, his voice tinged with humor. “Relax, Mrs. Blackwood. We wouldn’t want anyone to think this isn’t real.”

Her smile faltered for half a second, but she quickly recovered, cursing him inwardly. He’s impossible. Absolutely impossible.

The splendid ballroom exuded luxury, showcasing crystal chandeliers that bathed the elegantly dressed guests in a warm light. The soothing sounds of classical music merged with the quiet conversation and the clinking of champagne glasses.

Damion guided Carmela into the room, his hand gently placed on the small of her back. It wasn’t an expression of love, but instead a quiet caution—remain nearby, don’t stray.

"Stay where I can see you," he said, his voice soft enough for just her to hear. "Also, refrain from responding to inquiries regarding our marriage. Let me handle the talking.”

Carmela agreed, her throat constricted. "Okay."

While he approached to greet a group of business associates, Carmela realized she was briefly by herself. She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, seeking something to soothe her anxiety.

That’s when she listened to it.

"She's attractive," one woman murmured, her voice tinged with contempt. "However, let's be truthful—she isn't Elena Carter."

“Of course not,” another woman replied. “Damion’s ex-fiancée was stunning, sophisticated. This girl looks like she barely belongs here.”

Carmela’s grip tightened on her glass, her face burning as their words sank in. She looked over at Damion, who was talking with his business partners on the other side of the room. His impeccably fitted suit hugged his wide shoulders, and his authoritative demeanor made it hard to overlook him. She attempted to recall why she was doing this, why she had consented to come tonight, but their harsh remarks still hurt.

Just as she was about to escape, a recognizable voice pierced the murmurs sharply.

“Women, if you're going to spread rumors, at least have the courtesy to do it elsewhere.”

Carmela glanced around, feeling a wave of relief wash over her upon spotting Lily behind the women, arms crossed with a self-satisfied expression. The two women shot annoyed looks at each other before storming off in anger.

Lily grinned and faced Carmela. "Don't mention it."

Carmela exhaled a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. “Lily, why are you here?”

"Clearly protecting you from the vultures." Lily took a glass of champagne for herself. “How is your married life with Mr. Perfect?”

Carmela hesitated. “It’s… complicated.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “Complicated how? Does he know about… you know, that night?”

“No!” Carmela said quickly, shaking her head. “And he can’t find out. Ever.”

Lily’s eyes squinted with distrust. “Are you certain it isn’t him? I mean, tall, dark, and dangerously handsome? The odds aren’t exactly zero.”

“It's not him," Carmela stated, although her voice trembled.

"And what makes you certain of that?"

Carmela hesitated, her mind racing. “Because the guy I slept with had a butterfly tattoo on his left chest, and I haven’t seen anything like that on Damion.”

Lily’s eyes widened. “You’ve seen his chest?”

Carmela’s face burned. “I… yes. Of course.” She lied quickly, praying Lily wouldn’t press the issue further.

Lily smirked knowingly. “Interesting.”

Carmela looked away, her gaze drifting back to Damion. He was still deep in conversation with his business partners, but as if sensing her eyes on him, he turned. Their gazes locked, and her heart fluttered despite herself.

His gray eyes rested on hers for a brief moment before he returned to his chat, leaving her breathless and flustered. She hoped it’s not him.

The murmur of chatter faded as the ballroom doors swung open once more, unveiling a woman who captured attention with each stride. Elena Carter, Damion's former fiancée, exuded beauty and confidence, her red gown fitting her shape flawlessly.

Murmurs enveloped the space as she approached Carmela, her gaze shimmering with spite.

"Look who we have here, if it isn’t the latest bride in town! Mrs. Blackwood, right?”

Carmela raised her brow as she looked at the woman, “And you are?”

“So, you’re the little girl Damion married,” Elena said, her voice sweet but dripping with venom, ignoring that Carmela had just asked who she was. “I have to admit, I didn’t think he’d go so low.”

Carmela stiffened, her grip tightening on her champagne glass. “Excuse me?”

“Do you know her?” Lily asked already alerted to fight but Carmela stopped her.

Elena’s smile widened. “I mean, look at you. You’re pretty, I suppose, but nothing special. A far cry from what Damion’s used to.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd as guests turned to watch the unfolding scene. Damion who was speaking with the guest noticed as when and immediately start approaching the two ladies.

“Elena, that’s enough,” Damion’s voice cut through the tension like a blade as he appeared at Carmela’s side.

But Elena wasn’t finished. Her gaze flicked to Carmela’s glass, and she smirked. “Oops. Let me help you with that.”

Before Carmela could react, Elena raised her own glass, tilting it toward her.

Time seemed to slow as the wine spilled out and began to pour, but before it could touch her, Damion moved.

In a single motion, he stepped between them, shielding Carmela as the wine splashed harmlessly against his back.

Everyone suddenly gasped their mouth agape.