Chapter 3 A Kiss for the Cameras

If my old life had a soundtrack, it would've been soft jazz and the click of keyboard keys in a sunlit coworking space. This new life-this war masquerading as romance-had a different rhythm entirely.

By the next morning, I had an entire wardrobe delivered to Damien's penthouse. Designer labels still in plastic. Shoes in red-bottomed boxes. A stranger's reflection stared back at me in the full-length mirror.

She wore power. Lipstick like blood. Heels made to crush something.

"Do I look like someone who could ruin a man?" I asked.

Damien stood behind me, arms folded. He didn't look away from my reflection.

"You look like someone who already has."

A knock came at the door.

"Security team," his assistant called. "And hair and makeup."

I blinked. "For what?"

He turned and walked away. "Your first public appearance. Blackwood's Fall Gala is tonight."

Of course.

The annual gala, a press-heavy soirée dripping in wealth, stock rumors, and diamond-cut vendettas. Everyone who mattered would be there. Including Daniel. Including her-my ex–best friend, now Blackwood-by-marriage.

"I thought we had more time to plan-"

"We don't. And that's the point."

-

Three hours later, I stood at the top of a sweeping staircase inside the ballroom of the Blackwood Plaza Hotel. A crystal chandelier shimmered above, refracting a thousand blinding truths.

Damien offered his arm. I took it.

The cameras turned as one.

Our descent was slow, deliberate. Calculated down to the synchronized breath. His touch was steady, warm at the crook of my elbow. It grounded me even as every step made my lungs seize.

I could feel eyes on us like laser sights. Whispers trailed behind.

Isn't that Lena Carter?

Wasn't she supposed to marry Daniel?

Isn't that Damien Blackwood?

The Blackwood Brothers-fighting over the same woman?

The press mobbed us near the bottom step. Flashbulbs exploded.

"Mr. Blackwood! Are you and Ms. Carter together?"

Damien gave them his signature half-smirk. "What do you think?"

He turned to me and kissed my temple.

It felt like fire where his lips brushed.

And then-

He angled my face toward his, slowly, deliberately.

"This is where we make it real," he murmured.

And he kissed me.

Not a polite, staged peck.

Not a whisper of something almost.

This was a full, open-mouth, no-hesitation kiss. One hand on my waist. One at the nape of my neck. Like he had a right to touch me. Like I belonged to him.

I should've pulled away.

Instead, I leaned in.

I kissed him back.

It was all wrong-too much teeth, too much history, too much him-but it left me breathless anyway. My knees nearly gave out.

When he pulled back, the crowd erupted into chaotic applause. Paparazzi snapped the moment from every angle. There would be headlines by midnight.

Damien Blackwood Debuts New Love-Daniel's Ex Fiancée.

Perfect.

We mingled, glasses of champagne constantly replaced before they could empty. Damien navigated the crowd like a panther in a cage he owned. He introduced me to CEOs and venture capitalists and influencers I'd once dreamed of pitching to.

"This is Lena Carter," he said again and again. "She'll be heading our newest innovation branch."

He made it sound effortless. Like I belonged here. Like I hadn't been crying over a burning wedding dress twenty-four hours ago.

Then I saw him.

Daniel.

He stood across the ballroom, frozen, his new wife draped over his arm like an accessory he hadn't read the instructions for. Her eyes widened when she saw me. She turned to whisper something-but Daniel didn't respond.

He was locked on me.

I didn't blink.

Damien leaned in. "Say something shocking."

"What?"

"To the press," he said. "Daniel's watching. Give him a reason to spiral."

I hesitated. Then I turned to the nearest reporter, a sharp-dressed vulture with a voice recorder.

"It wasn't hard to fall for Damien," I said sweetly. "Some men know how to stay committed."

The reporter grinned. "Are you in love, Ms. Carter?"

Damien didn't wait for me to answer.

"She's everything my brother never appreciated."

I didn't have to fake the smirk that curled my lips. Daniel's face darkened across the room.

Mission accomplished.

-

Later, alone on the rooftop garden where the music couldn't reach, I found a moment to breathe.

Damien appeared beside me with two drinks.

"Your hands are shaking," he observed.

I laughed bitterly. "I just publicly made out with the man who offered to weaponize me. Forgive me if I'm a little... off."

He handed me a glass.

"You were brilliant tonight."

"I was bait."

"You were both," he said. "And he took it. You saw the look on his face."

I sipped the drink. "He's not going to let it go."

"He's not supposed to."

We stood in silence, the wind tugging gently at my curls, the city glittering below like a trap full of teeth.

Then I asked the question that had been digging at me all night.

"What happens when this backfires?"

Damien looked over. "It won't."

"You sound certain."

"I don't gamble unless I've rigged the game."

I stared at him, studied the man beneath the armor.

"Did Daniel really take everything from you?"

His jaw flexed. "He didn't take it. Father gave it to him. After believing a lie."

"What lie?"

He turned away. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me."

Damien looked out at the skyline. His voice came quieter now.

"He blamed me for something Daniel did. Something that cost lives. I was disowned. Cut out of the company. Publicly disgraced."

"And Daniel got a promotion?"

"He got everything I built."

I swallowed hard. "Why tell me this?"

"Because I need you to understand something," Damien said, turning back to me. "This isn't just about revenge. It's about justice."

A silence settled between us-thick and dangerous.

Then, softly, I said, "You kissed me like you meant it."

Damien took a slow breath.

"I needed it to be believable."

"Was it?"

He didn't answer.

But he didn't look away, either.