Chapter 5 Behind closed doors

Arielle's POV

The moment the ballroom doors closed behind us, silence swallowed the hallway like a secret.

I yanked my hand from Damien's and spun to face him, heels clicking like gunfire on the marble floor.

"You humiliated me."

Damien leaned against the wall, unbothered. "I gave you the spotlight."

"You gave me a cage with chandeliers."

His gaze dragged down my body, slow and unapologetic. "You wore the collar willingly, sweetheart."

My breath hitched. "Don't confuse survival with surrender."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "You think this is survival? I could've let your family drown. Your father practically begged."

"I didn't," i snapped. "I didn't beg for anything."

"No," he said, pushing off the wall. "You just showed up in red and looked at me like you wanted to kill me... or kiss me."

He took a step closer. I didn't back down.

"You think this is a game?" I asked, voice low. "You get to own me now? Parade me around like a possession because I'm wearing your ring?"

Damien reached out and caught a lock of my hair between his fingers, slow, deliberate. "You're not mine, Arielle. Not yet."

My name on his lips was too intimate, too dangerous.

He leaned in-close enough for me to smell the expensive cologne and something darker underneath. Power. Control.

"But you will be."

His voice was low. Lethal.

My pulse jumped. "Keep talking like that," i said, eyes locked to his, "and I might start to think you actually want this marriage."

Damien's lips ghosted the edge of my jaw, his breath warm. "I don't want a wife."

His hand slid to the curve of my waist, not gentle, not rough-just firm.

"I want obedience. Silence. And if you're smart..." his lips brushed my earlobe, "a little loyalty."

I turned my face just enough to look him dead in the eye. "And if I give you none of the above?"

Damien's mouth curved into a dark, delicious smirk. "Then this fake marriage is going to get very, very real."

Before i could speak, he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs like nothing had happened.

"We leave for Italy in two days," he said casually. "Pack something sinful."

He started walking down the hall, then paused, glancing back.

"Oh, and kitten?"

I swallowed hard.

"You might want to start practicing your poker face. I'm not the only one in this marriage playing for blood."

I didn't move until the sound of his footsteps vanished down the marble corridor.

My breath came fast-tight, shallow. My heart was thundering in my chest, but not from fear. It was something worse. Something hotter.

God, what the hell is wrong with me?

I pressed my fingers to my lips like i could wipe away the way his words felt. Like poison... and a promise.

Every word out of Damien Blackwood's mouth was a dare. And every time he touched me -whether it was my hair, my waist, my pride-i felt like i was walking a wire between survival and surrender.

The bastard was right. I hadn't walked away. I could've. Should've.

But instead, i stood there-burning. Wanting to slap him. Wanting to kiss him just to see if he tasted as sharp as he looked.

Snap out of it, Arielle.

I turned on my heel and stormed into one of the unused guest rooms off the hall. Locked the door. Yanked off my heels. Then i grabbed my phone and FaceTimed the only person i trusted more than my own reflection.

"Please pick up, please pick up..."

The screen blinked, then connected.

"Bitch, what the hell was that engagement party?!"

Ari's voice exploded through the phone before I could say a word. My best friend's eyes were wide, lips already forming the start of a rant.

I sank to the floor, my gown pooling around me like a crime scene. "I'm in hell."

"I could see that," Ari hissed. "You looked like you were about to stab him mid-waltz. And he looked like he'd enjoy it."

I groaned. "He kissed the air by my ear and I almost forgot my name."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

Ari blinked. "You like him."

I stared at the wall. "I hate him."

"You hate how hot he is."

"I hate how he knows how hot he is."

Ari leaned closer to the camera. "Babe. You're being emotionally waterboarded by a man in a Tom Ford suit. Do we need a code red?"

I let my head fall back against the wall. "He told me to pack for Italy. Said to bring something sinful."

"Oh my God."

"I think I want to sin."

A beat of silence.

"Arielle. Run."

"I would, but I think I already signed a deal with the devil."

Ari squinted. "Is the devil giving you mind-blowing sex?"

I stared blankly.

"...He hasn't touched me."

Ari blinked. "Wait. He hasn't touched you?"

I whispered, almost in horror, "Not even once."

Ari clapped both hands over her face. "Oh no. It's worse than I thought."

I nodded solemnly. "I think I'm getting corrupted on a spiritual level."

Ari was still talking, hands flying across the screen.

"Okay, okay, but seriously-if you need me to come kidnap you before Italy, I've got a wig and a burner phone. We can fake your death, shave your head, change your name to something wholesome like... Karen."

I smiled for the first time that night, a tired, aching thing. "Thanks for the offer. I'll let you know if I'm ever desperate enough to live as a Karen."

Ari narrowed her eyes. "You're not fine. You joke when you're spiraling."

I stared at the ceiling. "I'm not fine. But I'm not falling apart, either. Not yet."

"Elle," Ari said softly. "You don't have to marry him."

"My parents already agreed. There's money involved. Power. Legacies. I'm just... the pawn that looks good in photos."

Ari's voice turned sharp. "You're not a pawn. You're a fucking queen. And queens can burn kingdoms if they want to."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. But first... they learn to play the game."

She exhaled and closed her eyes for a second.

"I need to go," i whispered. "I need to breathe."

Ari hesitated, then nodded. "Call me if he says one more emotionally toxic, panty-melting line."

I cracked a half-smile. "You'll be on speed dial."

We hung up.

The room fell silent again.

I sat there for a long moment, alone with the ache behind my ribs and the taste of champagne still on my tongue. My fingers drifted to the ring-cold, heavy. A beautiful lie.

You're not mine. Not yet.

Damien's words echoed in my skull like thunder. He hadn't touched me-but he might as well have.

I pushed myself to my feet and peeled off the gown like it was made of smoke and secrets. I walked barefoot across the room to the bed, my skin still buzzing with the ghost of his voice.

I slid beneath the cool sheets, pulled the covers to my chest, and stared at the ceiling.

"I hate you," i whispered into the dark.

But even as i closed my eyes, i saw his face.

And the worst part was-deep down-part of me wanted to be his.

Just long enough to see if it would ruin me.