Chapter 6: A Dangerous Game

Elena took a slow sip of champagne, the chilled liquid doing little to calm the storm inside her. The encounter with Richard had unsettled her, but it was Damien's reaction that intrigued her more. He was always in control, always composed—but something in his posture, in the slight shift of his grip on her waist, told her that Richard was more than just an ordinary businessman.

But now wasn't the time to push.

Damien had seamlessly guided her through the gala, introducing her to influential figures, exchanging polite smiles and sharp remarks that kept their cover airtight. She had played her role well—laughing at his jokes, touching his arm when appropriate, leaning into his warmth as if they had been together for years.

And yet, it was growing harder to remember that it was all an act.

"You look like you have a hundred questions," Damien murmured beside her, his voice low so only she could hear.

She turned to him, finding his piercing gray eyes already watching her. "Only a few dozen," she replied, tilting her head slightly. "But I assume you won't answer any of them."

His lips curved into a faint smirk. "You assume correctly."

"Of course." She took another sip of her drink, shifting her gaze around the room. "So what now? More fake flirting for the cameras?"

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Would you rather we practice in private?"

Elena's pulse skipped.

He was teasing her—at least, she thought he was—but there was something in the way he said it, in the way his voice dipped just enough to send a shiver down her spine, that made her wonder.

Before she could respond, a tall, elegant woman approached them. She was dressed in an emerald-green gown, her dark hair pulled back into an intricate updo. Her presence demanded attention, and the way her eyes locked onto Damien told Elena that this woman knew him very well.

"Damien," she greeted, a slow smile spreading across her lips.

Damien's grip on Elena's waist remained steady, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—annoyance, perhaps?

"Isabella," he responded coolly.

Isabella's eyes slid to Elena, assessing. "And you must be Elena Carter. The journalist-turned-girlfriend."

Elena smiled, unfazed. "That's me."

Isabella tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. "How interesting. I must say, I didn't think Damien was the relationship type."

Elena felt Damien stiffen slightly beside her, but she maintained her composure. "Well, I like to think I'm full of surprises," she said smoothly.

Isabella laughed lightly. "I see why you like her, Damien. She's got a sharp tongue."

Damien's expression remained unreadable. "She does."

Elena glanced at him, but before she could make sense of the unreadable look in his eyes, Isabella's voice drew her attention again.

"Well, I won't keep you two. Enjoy your night," Isabella said, her gaze lingering on Damien for just a second too long before she walked away.

Elena turned to him the moment she was gone. "Ex?"

Damien took a sip of his drink. "Something like that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

He met her gaze, amusement flickering across his face. "Care to drop it?"

"Not a chance."

He sighed but didn't look annoyed—if anything, he seemed entertained. "Isabella and I had a… past. She wanted more, I didn't. End of story."

Elena hummed, unconvinced. "She still looks at you like she's not over it."

He smirked. "Jealous?"

She scoffed. "Hardly. Just gathering information for my exclusive."

"Careful, Miss Carter," he said, his voice dropping just enough to make her stomach tighten. "You might find that digging too deep has consequences."

There was something in the way he said it—an edge, a warning masked as flirtation—that made her pause.

Before she could respond, an announcement rang through the room, signaling the beginning of the evening's charity auction. The guests made their way to the grand stage, where various luxurious items were about to be bid on.

Elena followed Damien, but her mind was still spinning.

Who was Damien Blackwood, really?

She knew the basics—the billionaire CEO, the ruthless businessman, the man whose very name commanded power—but there was something else beneath the surface. Something guarded. Something dangerous.

And for the first time since this arrangement began, she wondered if she had just stepped into a game she didn't fully understand.

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The auction progressed, each item selling for exorbitant amounts. Elena barely paid attention—until the next item was presented.

"Our next auction piece is a custom diamond bracelet from Blackwood Enterprises," the auctioneer announced. "Designed exclusively for tonight's event, this piece is a true work of art."

The moment the bracelet was displayed, murmurs of admiration swept through the crowd. It was stunning—delicate yet bold, with diamonds that shimmered under the ballroom's lights.

"Shall we start the bidding at fifty thousand dollars?"

Hands began raising immediately.

Elena turned to Damien, expecting him to be watching the auction, but instead, he was watching her.

She frowned. "What?"

He didn't respond. Instead, as the bidding continued, he casually lifted his hand.

"Three hundred thousand," Damien said, his voice calm.

The room went silent.

Elena's eyes widened. "Damien—"

"Sold to Mr. Blackwood!" the auctioneer announced, clearly delighted by the unexpected bid.

The room erupted in polite applause, but Elena barely heard it. She turned to Damien, stunned. "You just spent three hundred thousand dollars on a bracelet."

He picked up his champagne flute, unbothered. "So?"

"So… why?"

He looked at her, his gaze steady. "Because I wanted to."

Her heart pounded. "You're insane."

He smirked. "You're just figuring that out now?"

Moments later, a staff member approached, presenting Damien with a sleek black velvet box. Without hesitation, he opened it, revealing the exquisite bracelet inside.

Then, to her utter disbelief, he took her wrist and gently clasped it around her.

"Damien, what—"

"It suits you," he murmured, his fingers brushing against her skin as he fastened it.

Elena stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

"You—this—" She shook her head. "You do realize this isn't real, right? You don't need to spend a fortune on a prop for our arrangement."

His eyes darkened, his expression unreadable. "Who said it's just a prop?"

The air between them shifted—something unspoken, something dangerous crackled in the space between them.

And for the first time since she agreed to this arrangement, Elena wasn't sure where the act ended and the truth began.

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