Chapter 5 5

The morning sun streamed through the windows of Elena's studio, casting soft light across her workbench. She stood before a half-finished painting, her brush poised midair. For hours, she had tried to lose herself in her work, hoping the swirls of color might quiet her thoughts. It wasn't working.

Damon's words from the gala replayed in her mind. *You might be more dangerous than I thought.* His tone had been light, almost teasing, but there had been something beneath it, something unspoken. He was starting to see her differently, and that terrified her.

A knock at the door startled her. She set down her brush, wiping her hands on a cloth before crossing the room. Sophie stood on the other side, a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

"You've made the headlines again," Sophie announced, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

Elena groaned, shutting the door behind her. "Let me guess: 'Damon Knight's Fiancée Stuns Yet Again'?"

"Close," Sophie said, handing her the paper. "But this one has a little more bite."

The headline read: *Elena Castellano: Cinderella or Calculated Climber?* Below it was a photo of Elena and Damon from the gala, their smiles frozen in perfect synchronicity.

"Great," Elena muttered, tossing the paper onto the workbench. "Now I'm a gold digger."

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "You expected anything less? This is what they do. Build you up just to tear you down."

"I didn't ask for any of this," Elena said, pacing the room. "I didn't want to be anyone's fiancée or play pretend for the sake of a business deal."

"And yet, here you are," Sophie said, her tone gentle but firm. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

Elena stopped pacing, her shoulders slumping. "I don't know."

"You could start by proving them wrong," Sophie said. "Show them that you're more than Damon Knight's fiancée. Show them who you really are."

---

Across town, Damon sat in his office, staring at the same headline. His assistant had left it on his desk, along with a stack of documents that required his attention.

He skimmed the article, his jaw tightening as he read the veiled accusations. The media loved to speculate, and Elena was their latest target. He had expected it, but seeing it in print still stirred something in him he couldn't quite name.

The phone on his desk buzzed. He pressed the speaker button without looking away from the paper.

"Mr. Knight," his assistant said, "your father is here to see you."

Damon's stomach tightened. Gregory Knight didn't drop by unannounced unless he had a reason. And Gregory's reasons were rarely pleasant.

"Send him in," Damon said, leaning back in his chair.

The door opened moments later, and Gregory entered, his tailored suit immaculate as always. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who knew his presence alone could unsettle a room.

"Damon," Gregory said, closing the door behind him. "We need to talk."

"I gathered that," Damon said, gesturing to a chair. "What's on your mind?"

Gregory didn't sit. Instead, he paced the office, his hands clasped behind his back. "That article this morning-"

"I've seen it," Damon interrupted.

"It's unacceptable," Gregory said, his voice cold. "Your fiancée's reputation reflects directly on you, and by extension, this company. If she can't handle the scrutiny, we need to reconsider the arrangement."

Damon's temper flared, but he kept his expression neutral. "Elena is handling it just fine. The press is doing what they always do-looking for a story where there isn't one."

Gregory stopped pacing, his gaze sharp. "Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment, Damon. This isn't about her feelings. It's about optics. If she becomes a liability-"

"She won't," Damon said, cutting him off.

Gregory studied him for a moment, then nodded once. "For your sake, I hope you're right."

---

Later that afternoon, Damon found himself outside Elena's studio. He hadn't planned to come, but the conversation with his father had left him unsettled. He needed to see her, if only to reassure himself that she was handling the pressure.

He knocked lightly on the door, and when it opened, Elena's surprised expression greeted him.

"Damon," she said, stepping aside to let him in. "This is unexpected."

"I needed to talk to you," he said, his gaze sweeping the room. It was cluttered with canvases, brushes, and jars of paint, the air thick with the scent of turpentine. It felt entirely unlike the world he inhabited, and yet it suited her perfectly.

"What's going on?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He hesitated, unsure how much to say. "The article this morning-"

"I saw it," she said, cutting him off. "Sophie brought me a copy."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, his voice softer than he intended.

Elena's expression shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "Why do you care?"

"Because this affects both of us," he said, though the words felt insufficient even as he spoke them.

She studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "I'm fine, Damon. This isn't the first time someone's questioned my motives, and it won't be the last."

"It shouldn't happen at all," he said, his frustration leaking through.

"That's not how the world works," she said, her tone pragmatic. "People will always judge what they don't understand."

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling out of place in her chaotic, colorful studio. "If it gets to be too much-"

"I'll let you know," she said firmly.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the tension between them eased. She saw something in him then, a crack in the armor he so carefully maintained. It was fleeting, but it was enough to remind her that beneath his polished exterior, Damon Knight was just as human as she was.

---

That evening, Elena found herself sitting on the balcony of her apartment, a glass of wine in hand. The city stretched out before her, its lights twinkling like stars.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. It was a message from Damon.

*"You handled the press better than I expected. I underestimated you."*

She stared at the words for a long moment before typing a response.

"Maybe you shouldn't underestimate me at all."

---

At the same time, Damon sat in his penthouse, rereading Elena's message. Her words lingered in his mind, challenging him in a way few people ever dared.

He set his phone down, his thoughts racing. This arrangement had been a calculated move, a means to an end. But the more time he spent with Elena, the less it felt like a strategy and the more it felt like something he couldn't control.

And Damon Knight didn't like being out of control.