The drive was quiet. Not tense like before, just… different.
Damian had one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my lap. His face was serious and he kept his eyes on the road, without blinking. The city lights passed by in flashes, but neither of us said a word.
I didn't know what to think anymore.
Was this just about control for him? Was he always this intense? Or… was there something more?
We pulled up in front of a fancy rooftop restaurant. Glass walls, golden lights, a perfect view of the skyline. It looked expensive. The kind of place rich people went when they didn't want to be seen but still wanted everyone to know they had money.
He parked, came around, and opened my door.
I looked at him. "What is this?"
"You're hungry," he said, offering his hand.
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to."
He helped me out like a gentleman. I didn't argue. I was tired, my mind still stuck on the scene at the charity event, Lucas's face, the way Damian had looked at me—like I belonged to him.
Inside the restaurant, it was quiet and warm. The staff greeted him like they knew who he was. Of course, they did. He was Damian Blackwood.
We were led to a private corner, far from everyone else. The low lights set a nice mood, and the table already set. Everything felt abit too perfect.
A waiter handed me a menu, but Damian waved it off. "I've already ordered."
I looked at him. "Don't I get a say in what I eat?"
He smiled. "Trust me."
I rolled my eyes but didn't fight him. The food came fast. Grilled salmon, mashed potatoes, perfectly roasted vegetables, and a dessert that looked like a piece of art.
I took one bite and froze. Damn. He was right. It was delicious.
We ate quietly for a few minutes. The tension from earlier slowly faded. For a moment, it felt like ee were just a normal couple.
Then I caught him staring at me,
"What?" I asked, setting down my fork.
He didn't blink. "I meant what I said earlier."
I was surprised. "About what?"
He leaned in little. "If you're mine, you don't look at another man."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
I put down my glass of water. "You don't own me."
"Yes, I do," he said, calm but serious. "We're married."
"It's fake."
"It doesn't feel fake."
I stared at him, my heart beating "So now you're jealous?"
He didn't answer that.
"Damian, this is a business deal," I said. "You can't act like you own me just because we signed some stupid contract."
He leaned closer, his eyes dark. "Contract or not, you're mine."
I froze.
His voice was low, firm, almost annoying —but not in a bad way. More like… in a way that made it hard to breathe.
"Why do you even care?" I asked quietly.
"Because I don't like seeing someone else touch what's mine."
"I'm not a thing."
He nodded slowly. "I know."
The waiter came to clear our plates. Neither of us said a word. I just sat there, my heart beating, trying to figure out what this was.
Then Damian stood and walked around the table. He stopped right in front of me, held out his hand again.
I hesitated, but I took it.
He pulled me up gently. We were close now, too close. I looked up at him, and for a second, I forgot where we were. I forgot the contract. I forgot Lucas. I forgot everything.
He reached out and picked a piece of hair behind my ear.
"You don't get it, do you?" he whispered.
"What?"
"You make me feel things I don't know how to handle."
Before I could say anything, he kissed me.
It started soft. His lips brushed mine like a question. Then he kissed me deeper, slower, with more feeling than I expected. My whole body responded without thinking. My hands gripped his shirt, and I kissed him back like I meant it.
My heart pounded so hard I could hear it. The world faded. The restaurant disappeared. There was only him. His mouth on mine. His arms around me.
By the time we pulled apart, I was breathless.
So was he.
He looked at me like he wanted to say something, but didn't.
I stepped back, confused, warm all over. "Why did you do that?"
He gave a small smile. "Because I wanted to."
I sat back down, trying to catch my breath. "This marriage is supposed to be fake."
He looked down at me. "Does this feel fake to you?"
I didn't answer. Because I didn't know anymore.
But deep down, I knew one thing for sure.
Damian Blackwood wasn't playing by the rules anymore.
He walked up behind me, his touch warm as he gently caressed my shoulders. Then he held my chair as I stood, picked up my bag, and together we stepped out of the restaurant.