Chapter 9 Cracked glass

Arielle's POV

I didn't return to my suite after dinner.

I needed air.

Not the carefully curated kind that wafted through the villa halls, perfumed and full of control. I needed real air. Cold. Sharp. Unfiltered.

I found it on the far end of the terrace.

The moon hung low over Lake Como, full and arrogant, casting the dark water in silver. The mountains looked like gods watching from a distance, untouched by petty things like pain and pride.

I gripped the marble railing, the cold biting my palms.

I hated how beautiful it all was.

How much it felt like a dream that didn't belong to me

I said yes to help my family.

I said yes because I had no choice.

So why did it feel like i was the only one who'd lost something?

Why did i feel small in a place that looked built for royalty?

I didn't hear him approach.

But somehow... i knew he was there before he spoke.

"Careful," Damien said quietly from behind me. "If you start crying out here, the staff will think I've broken you already."

I didn't turn.

"I'm not crying," i replied. "You'd know if I was."

A pause.

"That's true. You don't seem like the type to do it quietly."

I closed my eyes. Gritted my teeth.

"I needed five minutes without you," i said, voice low. "Just five."

"You had them," he replied, moving beside me. "You chose not to use them."

I looked at him now, fully. Anger sparking under my lashes. "Do you always twist things so they're my fault?"

He didn't flinch. "Only when I'm right."

I exhaled hard through my nose. "You think I enjoy this? Being paraded around like some trophy wife-in-training? Wearing dresses you picked. Eating food I didn't ask for. Smiling in photos like this life doesn't feel like a cage?"

Damien stepped closer.

Too close.

His voice dropped. "You could've said no."

"No," i snapped, "I couldn't. You went to my father, made some backroom deal, and let him hand me over like I was nothing but a solution."

I paused-eyes burning now. There it was.

"That's what hurts," i whispered.

Damien watched me.

His gaze softened-but only for a second.

"You think I don't know what it's like to be used?" he asked, voice like gravel. "To be traded, branded, shaped into something that serves someone else's agenda?"

My breath hitched.

"Difference is," he continued, "I learned how to make it hurt the people who did it. You're still trying to make it make sense."

"I don't want to be like you."

"No," he said. "But you will be."

The silence thickened.

The lake shimmered below them like it held all the answers we couldn't speak.

Then-

"You looked like a queen tonight," Damien said, almost softly. "And not because of the dress."

I blinked at him, startled.

He shrugged, turning to leave.

"I won't touch you until you ask me to," he added. "But make no mistake, kitten-eventually, you will."

And with that, he disappeared into the villa.

I stayed by the railing, heart pounding, vision stinging.

I didn't cry.

But i came dangerously close.