Chapter 4 – The First Crack in the Mask

The interview had ended, but the energy between them lingered like an unspoken challenge.

Sophia stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows of Damien's penthouse, watching the city lights flicker like dying stars.

Behind her, she could hear him moving—his steps measured, controlled, just like everything else about him.

"I'll admit," Damien's voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, "you played that well."

Sophia turned, arching a brow. "Did you expect anything less?"

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "No. But I did wonder if you'd slip up."

She held his gaze, refusing to let him see the way her pulse quickened. "And did I?"

Damien stepped closer. "No. But you surprised me."

His admission sent a strange thrill through her. But she wouldn't let it show.

Instead, she folded her arms. "Good. Because if I'm going to play this game with you, I refuse to be predictable."

His smirk deepened. "Careful, Sophia. You might actually make me enjoy this."

Something about the way he said her name sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

She hated that reaction.

This was supposed to be just a contract.

Nothing real.

She needed to keep reminding herself of that.

---

Damien suddenly stepped even closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her the way a predator might study its prey.

"Tell me something," he murmured. "Why did you choose that dress?"

Sophia didn't flinch. "Because I wanted to."

His eyes flickered with amusement. "That's not an answer."

She exhaled, feeling the invisible tension between them tighten like a wire about to snap.

"If you wanted me to look like your obedient fiancée," she said, voice steady, "you should have picked someone else."

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

For a second, she thought he might say something biting. Instead, he surprised her.

"Good," he murmured.

Then, without warning, his fingers brushed against her arm—just the faintest, briefest touch.

And yet, it sent a shiver down her spine.

She hated that he affected her like this.

Hated that the line between reality and pretense was already starting to blur.

Damien must have noticed, because his smirk returned, smug and knowing.

"You should go to bed," he said. "Tomorrow, we'll be making our first public appearance together."

Sophia lifted her chin. "And where will you be sleeping?"

His smirk didn't falter. "Do you want to know?"

Her breath caught.

He was playing with her. Testing her.

But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she turned on her heel. "Good night, Damien."

And with that, she walked away—before she did something she might regret.

---

The next morning, Sophia woke to a knock on her bedroom door.

She sat up groggily. "Come in."

A young woman entered—tall, poised, with an air of quiet professionalism.

"Good morning, Miss Reid," she said. "I'm Elise, Mr. Blackwood's personal assistant. I've been assigned to help you prepare for today's event."

Sophia blinked, shaking off sleep. "Assigned?"

Elise gave a small, polite smile. "Yes. Mr. Blackwood instructed me to make sure you have everything you need."

Of course, he had.

Control. It was always about control with him.

Sophia exhaled and swung her legs over the bed. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

---

Hours later, as Sophia stepped into the penthouse's main living area, she felt Damien's eyes on her instantly.

She had chosen a black silk gown with a dangerously low back and a slit that ran high up her thigh.

The look in Damien's eyes was unreadable.

But Sophia noticed the way his fingers tightened slightly around the glass of whiskey in his hand.

She hid a smirk. Good. Let him feel it.

"You're playing with fire," he said, voice low.

Sophia walked toward him, stopping just close enough to dare him to react.

"I thought you liked a challenge," she whispered.

Damien's eyes darkened. "Be careful, Sophia."

She tilted her head. "Or what?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn't answer.

Instead, he reached out—his fingers barely grazing the fabric of her dress.

For a moment, she thought he might pull her closer.

Instead, he stepped back.

"Let's go," he said.

And just like that, the moment shattered.

But Sophia wasn't sure if she had won this round—or if she had just walked straight into his trap.

---

The event was grand, luxurious, a spectacle of wealth and power.

The moment they arrived, cameras flashed, reporters whispered, and people turned to watch them.

Sophia felt Damien's presence beside her—strong, unwavering, possessive.

He placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd.

Anyone watching would think they were the perfect couple.

But beneath the surface, a battle was still raging.

They greeted influential guests, exchanged polite words with politicians and CEOs, played their roles flawlessly.

And yet, every now and then, Damien would lean in just a little too close.

His breath would brush against her ear as he murmured something to her—something only meant for her.

And every single time, her pulse would betray her.

But Sophia wasn't about to be outmatched.

She let her fingers linger on his arm longer than necessary.

She met his gaze with unwavering confidence.

She laughed at something he said—not because it was funny, but because she knew it would get under his skin.

And it did.

She could see it in the flicker of his expression, the way his fingers tensed just slightly when he held her waist.

They were playing a dangerous game.

But Sophia was beginning to wonder…

Who would break first?

---

As the evening progressed, Damien guided her toward the balcony, away from prying eyes.

The city stretched out below them—vast, untouchable.

Sophia turned to him. "What now? Are we going to continue pretending?"

Damien studied her for a long moment.

Then, without warning, he reached up—his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

The touch was unexpectedly gentle.

Sophia's breath hitched.

"Tell me something, Sophia," Damien murmured.

She swallowed. "What?"

His thumb grazed her cheek, barely there, but enough to make her feel like the ground beneath her was slipping away.

"How long do you think you can keep this up?" he asked.

Sophia's heart pounded. "Keep what up?"

Damien leaned in—not enough to kiss her, but enough to make her want him to.

"This act," he whispered. "Pretending you don't feel anything."

Sophia's breath caught.

For a split second, she almost lost herself in him.

But then—just as suddenly as he had closed the distance—he stepped back.

His smirk returned. "Careful, Sophia."

And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing there—furious, breathless, and utterly undone.

Because for the first time…

She wasn't sure if she was still playing him—or if he was finally playing her.