Elena.
Damien didn't speak to me for the first fifteen minutes after Adrian's "win."
He kept my hand locked in his, guiding me away from the auction floor and into a side corridor where the noise of the crowd dulled to a distant hum. The air here was cooler, quieter—but the tension between us was almost suffocating.
"You didn't tell me," Damien said finally.
I knew exactly what he meant, but I still played dumb. "Tell you what?"
His gaze was lethal. "That man. Adrian Vale. That your father promised you to him."
I bristled. "It was years ago. The deal was dead."
"Clearly not dead enough." His voice dropped, soft but dangerous. "Do you have any idea how he looked at you? Like you were already his."
"He's not a threat," I said, though my pulse betrayed me.
Damien stepped closer, his towering presence pinning me to the wall. "He's a threat to me, and that's all that matters."
There it was, that raw edge under his words, not just protective but possessive.
"Why does it matter?" I asked, chin tilting up in defiance. "We're not married. This is just—"
He cut me off with a sharp laugh, one with no humor. "We're engaged, Elena. That means your name, your face, your life, your everything's already mine to protect. Or maybe you don't understand the meaning of fiancé?"
My stomach knotted. "I understand just fine. But protection isn't the same as ownership."
His eyes darkened. "With me, it is."
I opened my mouth to argue, but movement at the end of the corridor drew my attention. Adrian. He leaned casually against the doorframe, watching us like he'd wandered into his own private show.
"Am I interrupting?" he asked, his tone pure mockery.
Damien turned on him, the shift in his body language so fast and lethal I almost stepped back. "You have five seconds to leave before I make you regret walking into this hall."
Adrian smirked. "Relax, Blackwood. You lost a bid, not a war."
"She's not up for sale," Damien growled.
"That's funny," Adrian replied, eyes sliding to me. "Because I just bought myself an evening with her. And unless she's suddenly incapable of making her own choices, I'll see her at seven tomorrow night."
"I won't be there," I said, voice steady despite the adrenaline in my veins.
His expression didn't falter. "You will. If not for me… then for the little matter of a signed agreement your father never voided."
Damien took a step forward, but Adrian backed toward the doorway, still smiling like the devil himself.
"Seven o'clock," he said again, then disappeared into the crowd.
The silence he left behind was thick enough to choke on.
Damien's jaw worked, and when he finally looked at me, there was a decision in his eyes. The kind that didn't leave room for debate.
"This ends now," he said.
"What does that mean?"
"It means tomorrow, you're not going to dinner with him. You're walking down an aisle."
I blinked. "You're out of your mind."
"Maybe," he said. "But Adrian Vale isn't going to get a second chance to think he owns you. The only way to shut him out completely is to make this official—legally, publicly, irrevocably."
My pulse spiked. "You can't just decide we're getting married tomorrow."
"I can," he said simply, stepping closer until his breath was warm against my ear. "And I will."
The finality in his tone should have scared me. Instead, it sent a shiver down my spine.
"Damien.... You can't just do that"
"No." His voice was low, absolute. "He's not touching you. He's not taking you. You're mine, Elena. You've been mine since the moment you walked into my life and looked me in the eye like you weren't afraid of me. And I'll be damned if I let anyone—your father, Adrian, or anyone else—decide otherwise."
The words sank deep, curling heat and chaos through my chest.
I should have argued. I should have fought. Instead, I found myself whispering, "This isn't how normal people get engaged."
His smile was dangerous. "Good thing I'm not normal."
⸻
We returned to the ballroom, but Damien kept me glued to his side, his hand resting low on my back like a constant reminder of his claim. People noticed—whispers followed us through the crowd.
At one point, I caught Adrian watching from across the room, glass of champagne in hand, the picture of patience. He didn't approach again, but that smug smile stayed in place until the night ended.
Damien didn't relax until we were in the back of his car, the city lights flashing past the windows.
"Tomorrow," he said again, staring straight ahead.
I exhaled slowly. "You're serious about this."
"Deadly serious."
I turned to look at him fully. "And if I say no?"
His gaze cut to me, sharp and unwavering. "Then Adrian wins. And I don't lose, Elena. Not to him. Not to anyone."
The way he said it left no room for misinterpretation.
And deep down, in a place I didn't want to admit existed, I didn't want him to lose either.
⸻
When we reached the mansion, he didn't escort me to my room. He stopped at the foot of the grand staircase, still holding my hand.
"Go to bed," he said softly. "Tomorrow, wear something white."
Then he released me and walked away without another word.
I stood there for a long moment, heart pounding, knowing full well what was coming.
By this time tomorrow, I'd either be Mrs. Damien Blackwood…
Or I'd be in a fight I couldn't win.