I woke up the next morning to the sunlight shining through the curtains. I had to partially close my eyes to shield them from the brightness, my body is still adjusting to the luxury of the room around me. Everything here was designed to remind me that I didn't belong, yet I was expected to fit in.
Damian's penthouse was quiet, too quiet. I sat up in bed, still feeling like I was in a strange dream I couldn't wake up from. There was a moment of peace, a fleeting calm before the reality of my situation hit me.
I was married to a man I barely knew. A man I didn't trust. And there was these ridiculous one year contract hanging over my head that felt like my new life.
A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Mrs. Blackwood," came the housekeeper's voice. "Your breakfast is ready."
I sighed, ran a hand through my messy hair before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. After a quick glance at the sleek, unfamiliar space around me, I finally got up and walked to the door.
"Thank you," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
The housekeeper smiled and stepped aside to showed me a cart filled with breakfast. An omelet, fresh fruit, and what looked like pastries from a five-star bakery.
"Is there anything else you need, Mrs. Blackwood?" the woman asked.
I shook my head. "No, this is fine."
She nodded and left, but not without one last polite smile. The moment the door closed, I took a deep breath and sat at the table. The food looked incredible, too incredible for a simple girl like me. But what choice did I have?
As I took a bite of the omelet, my thoughts drifted back to Damian. Last night was kind of strange. We had eaten in near silence, only exchanging a few words. He wasn't cruel, but there was something about him that felt out of reach, like he was always a few steps away, always in control of everything.
I shook my head, trying to focus on the food in front of me instead of the storm swirling in my mind.
By the time I was halfway through my breakfast, the door opened again. I looked up to see Damian standing there, his blue eyes watching me with an unreadable expression.
"Good morning," he said, his voice as calm as always.
I raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was mocking me or genuinely trying to make conversation.
"Morning," I replied, not bothering to hide my confusion.
Damian stepped into the room, his presence as commanding as ever. He didn't sit, just stood near the door with his arms crossed, watching the me as I finished the last of my meal.
"Are you ready for today?" he asked, his tone casual.
"Ready?" I repeated. "For what?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at me. "You have a fitting for a gala we're attending tomorrow night."
A gala. Of course. Because, what else would a billionaire and his captive wife do but attend charity events and mingle with the rich?
I nodded slowly. "A fitting for what?"
"A dress," he said simply. "For the gala."
I couldn't help but chuckle, a mix of bitterness and disbelief. "And I'm just supposed to show up and look beautiful?"
He smiled. "It's part of the deal, Elena. We can't fool anyone if you don't look the part."
Of course. I wasn't just a wife. I was a prop in his well planned life.
I set down my fork with a sigh, trying to keep my frustration in check. "When is the fitting?"
"Now," he said. "Let's go."
I was caught off guard by his abruptness. "Now?"
"Yes. My assistant is waiting downstairs. I'll drive you."
I didn't argue. I couldn't. Not when everything in my world had turned upside down so quickly.
After a few moments of silence, I stood and followed him out of the room, trying not to let my nerves show. Damian was already walking toward the elevator. His stride was confident, deliberate.
The elevator ride was silent, and for a moment, I couldn't shake the thought of how long this strange life would last. How long would I be stuck living in this cage of luxury, while pretending to be his wife?
When the elevator doors opened, we stepped into a spotless lobby where his assistant, a woman in her thirties with short red hair, was waiting.
"Mrs. Blackwood," she said, her smile professional but polite. "I'm Amanda. I'll be handling the details for your fitting today."
I nodded, giving a tight smile. "Nice to meet you."
Damian didn't say a word, he just led the way out the front doors of the building and toward a sleek black car parked outside. The driver opened the door for us, and I slid inside, the soft leather seat feeling almost too luxurious. Too expensive.
As we drove through the city, I tried to push aside my worries about the fitting and gala.
The mask I would have to wear for the public, pretending that everything in my life was fine when in reality, I was just a pawn in his game.
I didn't know what hurt more, the lack of choice in my situation or the fact that I was starting to care more than I should.
Damian's world felt like a glittering cage. And I was stuck inside it.