Damien was silent throughout he drive to wherever his home was. His attention was on his phone til he ordered the driver to take a different route, without looking up from his phone.
Lena's hand clutched to her phone firmly else they would quiver and she would be embarrassed if he happens to see it:
The SUV stopped in front of a glamorous boutique. She recognized it. This was Blair's favorite and the most expensive boutique in Astoria with its customers known to be men of great wealth and influence.
She had never been here.
A guard opened her side of the door as she stepped out with clamped feet. Damien was already headed for the door as she had to hasten her steps, almost running to meet up with him.
Everyone bowed immediately he entered as heads turned and mouths were in "oh-s".
"It's him."
"The heir of the Blackwood innovations."
"My God. He looks so handsome in person."
"Wow. I wish I can get him to look at me."
"Who is she?"
Girls at the mall kept gushing in loud whispers.
Damien stopped at the clothing collection.
"Go in. Change into something better and pick some dresses." He said. "40 minutes." He added and turned his back to her.
The scent of perfume and new fabric overwhelmed her. She had only seen places like this on Instagram. A sharply dressed sales assistant rushed to her with a practiced smile, clearly mistaking her for someone important just by the fact that she came with him.
"Ma'am, this way," the assistant said with a bow, guiding her past racks of dresses that looked like they cost someone's rent.
A stylist appeared, throwing questions. "Silk or velvet? Neutral tones or bold statements?"
She blinked, confused. "I… I don't know."
She couldn't remember the last time she got a dress from such a luxurious store. She couldn't afford it, not when she had a sick mother.
Meanwhile, some well-dressed girls sitting in a corner with large shopping bags looked her up and down. They laughed quietly.
"Where did he find her?"
"She looks like a charity case."
"She doesn't belong here."
She tried on a few dresses awkwardly. They were all too good looking and fitted as though they were made just for her but when she saw their price tags, she had to return most of them. Then she slipped into a dark green evening dress, elegant and fitting her body in ways she didn't expect. Her backside, prominently expressed and the net perfect for her skin. The assistant gasped.
"That's it. That's the one."
She looked in the mirror and barely recognized herself.
Still, her hands were trembling when she stepped out of the fitting room.
And then Damien walked in.
He said nothing at first, just looked. His eyes swept her figure slowly. She could feel his eyes going all over her. His face remained unreadable.
Her heart raced. Did he hate it? Was she trying too hard?
Then, just barely, he nodded. Just a nod and no smile.
Before she could read into it, a tall woman with flawless makeup and long legs walked in and grabbed Damien's arm, locking it with hers.
Gaps could be heard around from the girls.
"Isn't that Isadora? The goddess of beauty and elegance?"
"Oh, I wish she could take a picture with me."
"They look cute together."
"Oh Damien," the woman purred. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Her eyes locked on Lena beside him with disgust.
"You're shopping with someone now?"
The temperature in the room dropped. Damien's jaw tightened.
Lena didn't know what to do with her hands. She just wanted the ground to open and swallow her.
The woman smirked and turned to the girl. "Sweetheart, do you even know what couture means?"
The girls in the store all broke out in laughter.
Damien's voice cut in, calm but sharp. "Stop it,
Isadora." The lady flinched but stayed. "We're leaving in five."
The woman's smirk disappeared.
The girl blinked in confusion. "But I haven't picked any…"
A staff member rushed in, bowing. "Everything has already been paid for. All the dresses you touched, Miss."
Her throat went dry. Damien broke free from Isadora's grip and grabbed Lena's hand as he walked out of the boutique.
As they walked out, whispers erupted.
"She's someone."
"She must be."
"I need to Google her."
Outside, a little crowd had gathered. Somehow, news had spread that the almighty Damien was at Silverlining boutique with a lady.
Camera flashed as they struggled to get into the car all thanks to Damien's guards who were able to put the media out.
As the car door closed, she brought out her phone and she caught a glimpse of her picture already being uploaded online.
"Mysterious Girl with Damien Blackwood: Who Is She?"
Inside the SUV, Damien sat sit and looked ahead in silence. She dared to peek at Damien. He didn't look at her.
Then finally, he spoke.
"Next time, don't wear fear on your face."
And just like that, she realized this wasn't kindness. He hadn't stood up for her to save her but to save his face.
"You dare not act weak whenever we are outside." His words carried no warmth. He stretched out a little green box to her.
She collected it and opened it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. She had always dreamt of wearing one with the love of her life.
Dreams do come true but not in full. She had the ring of her dreams and not the man of her dreams.
"You must never be seen without it." It was more of an order than a clause from the contract.
She quietly slid the ring onto her finger and couldn't help but admire its beauty. The band was sleek platinum, elegant without being overly flashy, and the diamond shimmered even under the muted lighting of the car.
Damien stole a glance at her hand. He couldn't deny how perfect the ring looked on her slender finger. For a fleeting second, his eyes lingered not on the ring but on her expression. Something soft had crossed her face.
His gaze climbed slowly from her hand to her face. She wasn't looking at him. Her head was turned toward the window, her lashes were low, as though deep in thought. He found himself wondering what kind of life she had in such a home.
"You'll need to act like this marriage is real," he said, his voice even. "We'll be attending functions together. Dinners. Press appearances. My circle doesn't tolerate inconsistency."
She turned her face back to him, her expression composed. "I understand."
"I doubt that you do," he said, without a trace of emotion. His words were more harsh than they were at the boutique. "This isn't just a performance. It's protection. For both of us."
Lena's brows rose faintly. "Protection?"
He didn't explain. Instead, he reached into the console between them and handed her a slim black card.
"This is your new ID. Lena Blackwood. I don't want any slip-ups."
She took the card, her fingers brushing his briefly. Even that momentary touch felt out of out. His hand felt warm in the cold air of the car.
Damien leaned back against the leather seat, eyes straight ahead. "You'll have full access to the penthouse. But some areas of my life are off-limits. Don't go asking questions you don't want answers to."
"Ok," she said, almost too quickly.
"Good," he replied. "Let's keep it that way."
The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of a towering glass building. Damien didn't wait for the chauffeur to open the door. He stepped out first, long legs striding forward like a man always two steps ahead of everyone else.
Lena followed, clutching the edge of her coat. Her breath hitched as she looked up at the high-rise. This was her new reality now; his world. Cold. Distant. Impeccably controlled.
Rules and rules has always been the order of her life. This new life too came with its own rule.
And she had just stepped into it with a ring she didn't buy, a name she didn't earn, and a man whose heart might as well be made of stone.
Still, she squared her shoulders and stepped through the glass doors after him.
Because there was no going back.