Chapter 4 Champagne, Camera's and Chains

Arielle's POV

The ballroom at the Ritz-Carlton glittered like a fairytale. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in golden light, casting diamonds across champagne flutes and designer gowns. Laughter floated on the air, sweet and false.

I stood at the top of the marble staircase, my spine straight, my heart pounding like a drum in my ears. The silk gown clung to my body like second skin-deep crimson, strapless, slit high enough to make a statement i hadn't agreed to.

Blackwood's fiancée. That's what they were calling me now.

I hadn't said yes. Not officially. But here i was, paraded like a prize.

Across the room, Damien stood surrounded by business titans, his midnight-black suit sharp as his jawline. Women watched him like he was carved from sin. Men treated him like a god. And yet, the moment his eyes found mine-

Everything else disappeared.

His gaze dragged over me like a slow caress. Possessive. Calculating. Admiring. The crowd parted as he walked toward me, every step measured, every glance deliberate.

"Careful," he said, voice low as he reached me, offering his arm. "You wear red like it was made to be peeled off you."

I didn't take his arm. "You chose the dress."

He smirked. "I didn't think you'd actually wear it."

I finally slipped my hand into his, my voice sweet and venom-laced. "And I didn't think you'd lie to five hundred people just to make me your fiancée."

He leaned down, whispering against my ear. "A lie only matters if you don't start wanting it to be true."

A camera flashed.

I blinked back the burn in my eyes and turned toward the crowd. Cameras. Reporters. Champagne glasses raised in toasts to a love that didn't exist.

Damien raised their clasped hands for show. "To the future Mrs. Blackwood."

Cheers erupted. My stomach turned.

He leaned closer again, lips barely brushing the shell of my ear. "Smile, kitten. Or I'll give them something real to talk about."

I smiled, teeth bared.

Ten Minutes Later...

We stood side by side as guests offered congratulations-socialites, CEOs, old-money families who had never once looked Me in the eye before tonight.

"She's lovely, Damien," cooed an older woman with too many diamonds. "And that ring... exquisite."

I looked down at the massive engagement ring weighing down my hand. Blood-red ruby, surrounded by black diamonds. It looked more like a curse than a promise.

"I've always liked rare things," Damien said smoothly, gaze on my lips. "Especially when they bite."

I squeezed his arm-hard.

"Tell me," i whispered through clenched teeth, "how many girls did you buy before me?"

Damien smiled at a passing camera. "Only one," he said under his breath. "And she's standing right here."

Later, under the soft hum of music and lies, we shared our first slow dance. My hand in his. His palm at the small of my back-too warm, too firm, too dangerous.

"You think you've trapped me," i murmured.

He spun me once, then pulled me flush against him. "No, kitten. I think we just trapped each other."

And for one breathless moment, beneath chandeliers and champagne, I couldn't tell if i wanted to slap him...

Or kiss him.