Chapter 1 The Wrong Table

Seraphina POV

The plush velvet of the restaurant booth felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the cool detachment I usually cultivated. Tonight, however, detachment was proving elusive. Across the small table sat an empty space, a void that amplified the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner – each tick a countdown to my twenty-fifth birthday and the potential loss of everything my parents had built.

My gaze drifted to the ornate, gold-rimmed menu I hadn't bothered to open. Lobster thermidor and truffle risotto held no appeal when the main course of my evening was a man I'd never met, a stranger chosen by my well-meaning but utterly traditional grandparents. A contractual obligation disguised as a blind date.

"Ms. Dubois?" A voice, smooth and deep like aged whiskey, cut through my spiraling thoughts.

My head snapped up. Standing beside our booth was a man who seemed to have stepped out of a high-fashion magazine. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a dark suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, and possessed a sharp, angular face that could have been carved from granite. His dark hair was styled back, revealing a strong jawline and eyes the color of a stormy sea. He exuded an aura of quiet power, an intensity that made the air around him hum with unspoken energy.

This couldn't be him. My grandmother had described a kind, if somewhat unremarkable, accountant named Mr. Abernathy. This man... this man looked like he commanded empires, not spreadsheets.

"I... yes?" I managed, my voice a little breathier than intended.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, a fleeting expression that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Mr. Abernathy sends his apologies. He seems to have been... waylaid. I was told to meet a Ms. Dubois at this booth." His gaze flickered to the reservation card on the table. "Seraphina Dubois?"

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Yes, that's me. And you are...?"

"Dr. Damon Blackwood." He extended a hand, his fingers long and elegant.

Dr. Blackwood? That name hadn't been mentioned. Perhaps Mr. Abernathy had sent a colleague to apologize for his absence. Relief, surprisingly sharp, pricked at me. An apology meant I could politely excuse myself and salvage what was left of my evening.

I reached out and shook his hand. His grip was firm, sending a surprising jolt through me. His skin was cool against mine, yet a strange warmth lingered even after we parted.

"It's... nice to meet you, Dr. Blackwood," I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. "I understand Mr. Abernathy couldn't make it?"

"Indeed." His gaze held mine, those stormy eyes seeming to penetrate the carefully constructed walls around my heart. "However, there seems to have been a slight... misunderstanding."

He gestured to the empty seat opposite me. "I believe I was meant to meet someone here as well."

My confusion deepened. Another missed connection? This was turning into a comedy of errors.

Just then, a flustered-looking woman approached our booth. "Dr. Blackwood? Oh, there you are! I am so incredibly sorry. I seem to have taken the wrong table." She glanced at me apologetically. "And you must be Ms. Dubois? I'm Eleanor, Mr. Abernathy's niece. A thousand apologies for the confusion."

The pieces clicked into place. Eleanor was Mr. Abernathy's intended date. And Dr. Damon Blackwood... he must have been meant to meet someone else entirely.

A small smile played on my lips. "It seems we've both been victims of a seating mishap."

Damon's lips curved into a genuine smile this time, a flash of unexpected warmth that softened his severe features and made my heart do a curious little flutter. "Indeed. Perhaps fate has a strange sense of humor."

Eleanor, clearly eager to rectify her mistake, began to excuse herself. "Well, I should... I should go find Mr. Abernathy."

"Wait." The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I surprised even myself. What was I doing? This man was a complete stranger, and I had a perfectly valid reason to end this awkward evening.

But something in his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable, held me captive. And the thought of returning to my lonely apartment, the weight of my impending deadline pressing down on me, felt suddenly unbearable.

"Dr. Blackwood," I continued, a sudden impulse taking hold. "Since we're both... unattached for the moment, would you perhaps consider sharing this table? We could commiserate over the perils of blind dates gone awry."

His eyes widened slightly, a hint of surprise in their depths. Then, that intriguing smile returned, this time lingering a moment longer. "Ms. Dubois," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "I believe fate might be onto something."

And just like that, my carefully laid plans for a solitary evening dissolved. Across the table sat a stranger with eyes like a storm and a name that hadn't been on my list. A doctor, he said. But something in his intense gaze hinted at depths I couldn't yet fathom.

Little did I know, the man sitting opposite me held secrets that stretched far beyond the medical profession, secrets that would soon intertwine with my own life in ways I could never have imagined. My contractual marriage had just begun, with a man who had a secret name – and so much more hidden beneath the surface.

Damon POV

The information had been precise: a Ms. Seraphina Dubois would be waiting at booth seven. A necessary inconvenience, this arranged meeting. My focus remained on the intricate network that required constant vigilance, the chess game where one wrong move could have lethal consequences. Yet, duty called, and a legitimate façade required certain... social obligations.

The woman seated at the designated booth was not the prim, society type I had been led to expect. This one possessed a quiet strength, her gaze direct even as a hint of weariness shadowed her eyes. Her elegant dress couldn't entirely conceal a certain independence, a spark that flickered beneath a veneer of polite resignation.

"Ms. Dubois?" The name felt foreign on my tongue, a stark contrast to the one etched in the deepest recesses of my memory.

Her head lifted, and for a fraction of a second, the breath hitched in my throat. The resemblance was uncanny, a ghost of the girl who had shown such unexpected bravery all those years ago. But the vibrant, mischievous light in young Seraphina's eyes was gone, replaced by a guarded reserve. The accident had taken more than just her parents; it had stolen a part of her very essence.

"I... yes?" Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.

I offered the practiced apology for Abernathy, a man whose bumbling attempts at connection were a source of amusement within certain circles. "Dr. Damon Blackwood." The name felt like a comfortable skin, one of many I wore with ease.

Her handshake was surprisingly firm, a fleeting connection that sent a jolt of something... familiar through me. She didn't recognize me. Of course not. Years had passed, and the trauma had undoubtedly erased those early memories.

Then, Abernathy's niece arrived, her apologies tripping over themselves. The intended meeting was revealed, the accidental nature of our encounter clear. A convenient end to a tiresome obligation.

Yet, as Eleanor prepared to leave, a strange impulse seized me. My carefully constructed walls, usually impenetrable, seemed to waver. The woman across from me... she was the key to a past I had never forgotten, a past I had sworn to protect. And the vulnerability in her eyes, the subtle tension around her, hinted at a present that might require my intervention.

"Wait." The word surprised even me.

Her gaze, questioning and a little wary, locked with mine.

"Dr. Blackwood," she continued, her voice gaining a newfound resolve. "Since we're both... unattached for the moment, would you perhaps consider sharing this table? We could commiserate over the perils of blind dates gone awry."

An unexpected opportunity. A chance to be near her, to observe, to perhaps even guide her without revealing the tangled threads of our shared history. The irony was a sharp, almost bitter taste on my tongue. She sought a contract, a means to an end, with the very man whose life she had unknowingly saved.

A genuine smile, one that rarely surfaced in my controlled world, touched my lips. "Ms. Dubois," I replied, the low rumble in my voice betraying a flicker of something more than polite agreement. "I believe fate might be onto something."

The game had changed. The board was set with unexpected pieces, and the stakes were higher than I had anticipated. The woman across from me knew me as a doctor, a respectable stranger. She had no idea that the man she had just agreed to share an evening with was a silent guardian from her past, a ghost in the shadows with a secret name – and a life irrevocably intertwined with her own.