**Chapter 6: The Fitting**
The drive to the fitting was pretty quiet. Damian didn't say much, which was normal for him, but the vibe in the car felt different. Just the hum of the engine and my fingers tapping against my bag filled the silence. I gazed out the window, trying to make sense of the mess my life had become.
We pulled up to this fancy boutique that looked more like a fashion museum than a store. The walls had gold trim, and there were these extravagant chandeliers everywhere. It felt like the whole place was trying to show off how expensive it was.
Stay close, Damian said quietly as he stepped out of the car. I nodded and followed him, unsure of what to expect.
Inside, a bunch of well-dressed assistants greeted us, all smiles. They led me to a velvet chair, and before I knew it, a stylist with a sharp haircut and glasses was measuring me up. It felt like something out of a dream, or a nightmare, depending on how you looked at it.
This is for the gala, Damian said, standing off to the side with his arms crossed while I tried on a dress I never thought I'd wear. It was black, elegant, and definitely too pricey for me, but it felt amazing against my skin. The fabric hugged my body in all the right places, and the little slit made me feel like I was in a different world.
I glanced at Damian, expecting his usual stoic expression, but he was looking at me in a way I couldn't figure out. It wasn't admiration or anything like that. It felt distant and cold, like I was just another accessory to him.
I shifted a bit under his gaze. How does it look? I asked, my voice shaking a little.
He tilted his head, barely a smile on his lips. "Perfect," he said simply, "It's exactly what I wanted." As if his word was the law.
I took a deep breath, nodded, and let the stylist finish up. The dress felt heavy, but I didn't argue. This was the life I'd chosen, wasn't it?
Once the fitting wrapped up, they took me to a private room to change. I looked at myself in the mirror, tall and elegant, a far cry from the girl who used to stroll around campus in jeans and sneakers. This new me seemed so foreign. I changed back into what I wore, shedding the elegance for comfort.
When I stepped out, Damian was waiting by the door, and for a split second, I thought I saw something human in his eyes. It vanished just as quickly, replaced by his usual coldness.
We'll stop for a bit, he said, gesturing for me to follow him out of the store.
I had no idea where we were going, but I didn't ask. The car took us through the city, buzzing with traffic, until we stopped in front of a cute little ice cream shop. The neon lights over the door seemed out of place compared to the fancy places we'd just left, but it felt comforting.
Damian got out first, and as I followed, I felt a bit lighter. Ice cream. It felt like a hint of freedom in my otherwise strange life. I looked at him, wondering if he had planned this or if it was a random stop.
Ice cream? I asked, surprised.
He gave me a small smile. Everyone needs something sweet occasionally.
We walked inside, and I instantly grinned at all the flavors. I hadn't had ice cream like this in ages. Everything looked rich, creamy, and full of life, a welcome change from the cold luxury of the penthouse.
Before I could pick, Damian ordered for me. Strawberry cheesecake, he told the clerk, sounding smooth. And I'll take chocolate hazelnut.
I raised an eyebrow. You don't even know if I like strawberry cheesecake.
He shot me a quick look. I'm not betting on this one.
After he paid, we sat on a bench in the small nearby park. The ice cream was rich and satisfying.
As I took a bite, I relaxed just a bit. For a moment, there was no penthouse, no contract, and no cold, calculating Damian Blackwood. It was just me, him, and a slice of peace I thought I lost.
You look better when you're not glaring at me, he said suddenly, breaking the quiet.
I glanced at him, a bit taken aback. I wasn't glaring.
You were, he insisted, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
I couldn't help but chuckle. Maybe I'm just not used to this…, I trailed off, gesturing toward the ice cream. Or to you.
He shrugged, not offended. No one ever gets used to me. But that's not my issue.
For a second, it almost felt like we were just two people sharing ice cream and chatting. It was the most human I'd seen him in days.
We finished our ice cream in silence. When we were done, he stood and brushed off his pants.
Ready to go home? he asked, looking down at me.
I nodded and got up too, feeling surprisingly calm.
For the first time since I stepped into his world, it felt like there might be more to him than just the contract. But I pushed that thought aside. He was still the same guy who had tied me to this marriage. He still held all the cards.
I wasn't about to forget that.