Chapter 4 The charity gala

Arielle had no idea what she expected from the Lancaster family, but nothing had prepared her for the grandeur of their charity gala.

The event was being held at the Lancaster estate itself, in a ballroom that looked like something out of a royal palace. High ceilings stretched up like a cathedral, draped with golden chandeliers that cast warm, dazzling light onto the immaculate marble floors. The walls were lined with priceless paintings and sculptures, and the scent of fresh roses and jasmine filled the air.

She felt as though she were stepping into a different world.

Damien stood beside her, his expression as cold and indifferent as ever, but Arielle could feel the weight of his presence beside her. His tall frame towered next to hers, and the silence between them was thick with unspoken words.

"Ready?" Damien's voice cut through the tension, low and commanding.

Arielle glanced up at him. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, every inch of him exuding power and control. But beneath that icy exterior, she could feel the faintest hint of something else-a nervous energy she wasn't sure he even recognized in himself.

"I suppose I have no choice," she said, her voice steady but carrying a note of humor. She had to admit, despite the madness of the situation, a small part of her felt excitement. She was in a new world now-one that was as beautiful as it was dangerous.

"Just stay out of the way," Damien said curtly, offering her his arm in a motion so formal it seemed as though he were offering her a seat at a throne, not the arm of a man who wanted her to stay in the shadows.

She took it, her fingers brushing his for a brief moment. The sensation sent a strange shiver down her spine, but just like the last time, no rash appeared, no allergic reaction.

Arielle could feel the gazes of the guests as they entered, her arrival as much a spectacle as any of the other high-society elites. The women wore expensive gowns, diamonds glittered on every wrist and neck, and the men stood with glasses of champagne, whispering among themselves.

But all eyes were on her-the new wife.

She was the subject of every conversation, the cause of every raised eyebrow. She could feel the weight of the whispers, the judgment in their stares. Damien led her through the crowd without a word, his icy demeanor unchanging. It was clear he didn't care about the attention; he was simply here to fulfill an obligation.

But Arielle wasn't so indifferent. Her heart raced in her chest, a mixture of nerves and a strange exhilaration. She had never been to an event like this in her life. Her mother had always been more concerned with survival than luxury, and Arielle had grown up watching from the sidelines as the rich and powerful played their games.

Tonight, she was one of them.

The gala was a blend of charity and high society, with speeches about donations to various causes and auctions for exclusive items. But the real spectacle was the people-wealthy, untouchable, and flawless. It didn't matter that Damien had given her little more than a passing glance since they arrived. The mere fact that she was by his side elevated her status to something she had never known.

And then there was the one thing she couldn't ignore-the way her body reacted when she stood next to him.

There was something magnetic about Damien Lancaster. His aloofness only made him more fascinating. The way he moved through the crowd with a sense of purpose, the way the others stepped aside for him without question, made her feel like she was in the presence of someone untouchable. And yet... he hadn't once made a move to touch her, despite the fact that they were standing so close. He had kept his distance, his gaze never wavering from the crowd.

Arielle tried to focus on the conversations around her, to engage in the small talk the women were so adept at. But every now and then, her gaze flickered back to Damien, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"So, Mrs. Lancaster," a woman's voice interrupted her thoughts. Arielle turned to find a well-dressed woman with platinum blonde hair and a perfectly poised smile standing before her. "I must say, I wasn't expecting you."

Arielle forced a polite smile. "I'm sure I wasn't the bride you were expecting either."

The woman's lips twitched in what might have been a smile, but her eyes were sharp. "No, certainly not. But here you are. How... fascinating."

Damien's cold eyes flickered in their direction. "I see you've met my wife."

Arielle fought the urge to roll her eyes. She had heard the woman's tone-the subtle judgment that cut through her words. It was clear that she was scrutinizing Arielle, sizing her up like a piece of livestock rather than a person.

"I'm Daphne," the woman said, extending her hand. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Mrs. Lancaster."

Arielle hesitated for only a moment before shaking Daphne's hand. "The pleasure is mine, I'm sure."

Daphne's smile widened, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I do hope you'll be able to keep up with the family's expectations. The Lancaster name is one that carries weight."

"I'll do my best," Arielle replied evenly.

Just as the conversation seemed to reach a lull, Damien stepped forward, signaling that it was time to move on. "If you'll excuse us," he said, his voice polite but firm.

Arielle followed him through the crowd, her head spinning with the weight of Daphne's words. What had she meant by that? Was she implying Arielle would somehow fail in her new role? Was that what everyone was thinking?

Her gaze caught Damien's profile, the hard set of his jaw, the faint lines of tension around his eyes. He was the one who had brought her here-who had insisted on this charade-and yet, he wasn't exactly making her feel welcome.

"Damien," she said softly, just loud enough for him to hear. "Why did you marry me?"

He didn't turn to look at her. "You know the answer."

"Because Cecilia ran off," Arielle said, her voice flat. "But that's not what I meant."

He finally glanced at her, his expression still unreadable. "Then what do you want me to say?"

Arielle swallowed. "I'm not a fool, Damien. I know you're only tolerating me because of some arrangement. But there's got to be more to this... whatever it is."

He let out a sharp exhale, his gaze lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary. Then, without another word, he walked away.

She stood there, watching him disappear into the crowd, her heart pounding with confusion and a thousand unanswered questions.

But she wasn't going to let herself be a passive bystander. She had come here with a purpose-whatever that purpose turned out to be-and she wasn't about to fade into the background.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations she didn't quite understand, glances she couldn't decode, and awkward silences that only made the distance between her and Damien feel more pronounced.

As the night drew to a close, the crowd began to thin out, the laughter and chatter dwindling as the last guests began to leave. Damien, however, had long since retreated to the private area of the ballroom, as if he could no longer stand the charade.

Arielle found herself alone in the center of the room, the echoes of the gala still lingering in the air like a fading memory.

A familiar voice broke through the silence.

"You did well tonight."

Arielle turned to find Julian standing by the door, his casual demeanor at odds with the tension in the room.

"I didn't do anything," she said, her tone a little sharper than she meant.

"I meant you survived," Julian said with a grin. "It's not easy, you know. But you handled it. Damien isn't exactly known for being a gracious host."

Arielle's lips twitched. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It's meant as one," Julian said, stepping closer. "But just remember-this family is full of games. Damien included."

"I've figured that out," Arielle replied dryly. "But I'm not here to play their games."

"No?" Julian's smile deepened. "Then maybe you're the only one who isn't."

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