The Beginning of Games
I woke up to an uneasy silence. It wasn't the peaceful kind; it felt tense and cold.
Damian wasn't at the other end of the bed. I never expected warmth or closeness from him, but that empty space beside me still stung a little.
I swung my legs over the side and let my bare feet glide across the marble floors. The penthouse felt like a glass castle—stunning but with a sharp edge.
After wandering around, I finally found him in the study.
He was hunched over a thick file, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled up. A tattoo snaked down his forearms. A glass of whiskey sat untouched beside him, even though it was barely 9 in the morning.
He didn't look up when I walked in, but I knew he sensed me. He always did.
"Can't sleep?" I asked softly. He flipped a page without a word.
"I don't sleep much. When it comes to the business."
"You mean the business of killing people?" I shot back. His eyes snapped up, flint-gray and unreadable.
"Careful, Mrs. Cross," he replied sharply. "You're not just wearing the ring; you carry my name now. That means when you speak, you speak for me. Insult me, and you insult yourself."
"Maybe I don't care…" A slow smile tugged at his lips.
"Oh, but you do. You just haven't realized how much yet."
He pointed at the file. "Your father's ledger. At least, what's left of it."
I felt my breath catch. There it was records of transfers, offshore accounts, and with each page, a crack in the lie I'd been holding onto since I was seventeen. My father wasn't just a victim.
He was right in the thick of it all. "You knew all along, didn't you?" I managed to whisper.
"I told you," he said softly. "He didn't die clean. He made enemies, lied to them. I would've protected him, Claire; I had the power. But he ran."
"And what would've made him pay for that protection?"
"The same thing you're paying for now."
My stomach twisted. So, I'm your collateral?
"No, you're my choice," he said quietly.
That scared me more than anything else.
"You're going to the charity luncheon tomorrow," he said, glancing up from his phone. "The Rossi Foundation. You'll be seated with political wives and old-money socialites. Wear blue, and be polite."
"And if I don't?"
He smiled at me slowly, dangerously. "You do."
I hated how he made me feel so small with just a look. Like I didn't belong to his world except as something to be owned and displayed.
I didn't say anything else; I just turned and walked away.
The next day, the Rossi luncheon was just as Damian had said it would be brittle smiles, designer gowns, and veiled judgments lurking behind champagne flutes.
I wore a sapphire blue dress Damian had sent to my dressing room. His stylist had done my makeup, and his driver brought me there. Even the clutch I carried had his initials on it.
I was starting to grasp what it meant to be his wife. It felt suffocating.
"I heard you and Damian got married in a private ceremony," a woman with sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes purred. "Very sudden, wasn't it?"
So sudden, I smiled back.
The other women tittered, but their gazes lingered like daggers.
"Do you plan to give up your old life?" another asked.
You mean my job at the coffee shop? Sure. Damian prefers his possessions to stay indoors.
She laughed, but then realized I wasn't joking.
Damian's name gave me power, but it also painted a target on my back.
When the event finally wrapped up, I felt like I could breathe again. I rushed back to the penthouse where Damian waited with a glass of wine and a smirk.
"You handled them better than I expected. Especially Amanda Rossi. I heard you made her choke on her shrimp cocktail."
"She asked if I had signed a prenup."
"And you said?"
"That I didn't need one you already own me."
His smile faded just a touch. "You're learning fast."
I have to. It's a matter of survival now.
He watched me in silence for a moment before standing up and walking slowly toward me. "Survival, Claire, is not the same as living. You're in my world now, and you might as well, learn how to enjoy it."
That night, sleep just wouldn't come. I found myself sitting by the window, staring at the lights outside, trying to figure out my next move.
I could feel him watching me. He always did. But this time, I had something, the ledger. It had names, accounts, numbers. If I could just copy it, I could pass it on to the right people.
Honestly, I wasn't looking for justice anymore. I just wanted to see Damian Cross take a fall.
And who knows? Maybe I wasn't the only one keeping an eye on him.
So, she actually went through with the marriage? "Yeah, do you want us to move in?"
"No, not yet. Let her settle in. Let her dig deeper."
And when the moment's right, that's when we'll use her.