Chapter 4 Rules are just pretty Lies

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Rain clung to the penthouse windows like fingerprints on a secret.

Lena stood in front of the full-length mirror, her reflection more armor than truth. The silk dress was crimson-dangerous, deliberate. Backless. A slit that climbed too high for comfort and too low for apologies.

She didn't dress for Damon. She dressed for control.

But when she walked into the living room and saw him waiting, she faltered.

Just slightly.

Damon Kingsley in a black tux was... cinematic.

Clean-cut jaw. Watch peeking from his sleeve. The kind of man who didn't check the time-he owned it.

His eyes flicked to her, slow and measured.

He didn't say you look beautiful.

He said, "You'll turn heads."

Lena raised a brow. "Jealous already, husband?"

His mouth curved, barely. "Just ensuring the narrative stays intact."

---

The gala was hosted at the V&A Museum-because of course London's elite mourned legacy among priceless sculptures and whispered history.

It was Damon's father's memorial fundraiser. But grief was not on display.

Wealth was.

Lena stepped onto the marble floor, her heels echoing like power. Cameras flashed. Smiles sharpened.

They walked hand-in-hand, perfectly synced. Damon's fingers wrapped around hers like they'd been choreographed.

Fake marriage.

Real tension.

"Is it weird being back here?" she asked under her breath.

He didn't flinch. "He liked the drama of this place. Thought it made him unforgettable."

Lena glanced sideways. "And you?"

"I prefer silence to sculpture."

A beat.

Then he added, "But tonight is for him."

And somehow, that sounded more like a sentence than a tribute.

---

She mingled. Laughed at half-baked jokes. Sipped champagne she didn't want. The social dance was a game she'd been trained to win since prep school.

But across the room, Damon didn't play. He observed.

Commanded.

He looked untouchable.

Until she noticed his jaw tighten when a tall, sharp-boned woman approached him. Blonde. Stunning. Confident like someone who knew secrets.

They spoke in low tones. Too close. Too familiar.

Lena's stomach knotted.

She wasn't jealous.

She was curious.

So when Damon returned to her side, she didn't ask.

She baited.

"Old flame?"

He sipped his scotch. "Lucinda was my father's assistant."

"Was?"

"She married his lawyer a week after the will was read."

"Ouch," she said, smirking. "Family businesses really do stay in the family."

Damon looked at her then-really looked.

And something in his expression cracked.

Not visibly.

But enough.

---

They escaped the crowd before midnight. Took the back exit. Slid into a car with blackout windows and silence too loud to ignore.

In the backseat, her head rested against cool leather. Rain tapped the glass like secrets trying to get in.

"You held it together well," she said softly.

Damon didn't respond.

"You don't talk about him much."

His voice was low. Almost distant. "There's not much worth saying."

"But he built Kingsley Corp."

"He also broke every person in his life to do it."

Lena turned to him. "Including you?"

His eyes stayed forward. "Especially me."

And she knew then-this marriage wasn't just about image or legacy.

It was about vengeance wrapped in a wedding ring.

---

Back at the penthouse, the tension didn't dissolve.

It thickened.

She peeled off her heels slowly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Of course not."

She moved toward the bedroom. He followed, uninvited but inevitable.

"I read the board minutes," she said, slipping out of her dress and into an oversized tee. "They wanted to cut your position before the merger."

"Let them try."

"And your father's will... he didn't leave you CEO, did he?"

Silence.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

"No," he said finally. "He left it to my cousin."

Lena froze. "You're serious?"

"I'm only CEO because the merger saved the board's asses. My marriage saved mine."

She turned, stunned. "So you needed me for more than a pretty distraction."

His gaze darkened. "You were never just a distraction."

Their eyes locked.

And something shifted.

Unspoken.

Unforgiving.

Unavoidable.

---

He crossed the room.

She didn't back away.

His hands hovered near her waist, not touching, just existing in the electric space between want and war.

"Rule two," she whispered.

He raised a brow. "What about it?"

"No physical contact... unless required for image."

He leaned closer, his breath against her lips.

"We're in private."

She tilted her chin defiantly. "So why are you still here?"

He didn't answer.

He just kissed her.

Slow. Measured. Dangerous.

Like a man testing how far rules could bend before they snapped.

And Lena?

She didn't break.

She burned.

---

Later, they lay on opposite sides of the bed.

Not touching.

Not talking.

And yet-

Everything had changed.

She stared at the ceiling, heart thudding.

They'd just broken Rule Two.

What scared her more was how close they were to breaking Rule Three.

> 3. No falling in love.

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