Bound by Fire and Lies

The moment Ariana's name hit the headlines, the world exploded.

"Billionaire Damian Kingsley Announces Engagement to Unknown lawyer!"

"Who is Ariana Carter? The Mystery Woman Stealing the CEO's Heart."

"A Business Deal or a Real Love Story?"

Every major media outlet had her face splashed across their pages. The internet swarmed with speculation—was she a gold digger? A secret heiress? Or just another disposable pawn in Damian Kingsley's ruthless empire?

Ariana sat on the edge of the massive king-sized bed, gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white.

This was insane.

In just one night, she had gone from a nobody to the most talked-about woman in the city.

Her inbox was flooded with messages—some from distant acquaintances pretending to be friends, others spewing hate.

"How much did he pay you?"

"You really think someone like him would marry someone like you?"

"Enjoy it while it lasts. He'll throw you out soon."

Her stomach twisted.

This wasn't just a contract marriage. This was war.

And the battlefield was every screen, every social circle, every whisper that questioned her worth.

Footsteps echoed behind her.

"You're letting them get to you already?"

Ariana jerked her head up to see Damian standing by the doorway, shirt unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up. He looked completely unbothered—as if his name wasn't being dragged through endless speculation alongside hers.

She swallowed. "They're calling me a gold digger."

Damian stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "Let them."

Ariana's breath hitched. "You don't care at all, do you?"

His lips curled. "No, I don't."

She clenched her fists. "Well, I do."

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—something sharp, unreadable.

Then, without another word, he turned and grabbed his suit jacket.

"We're going out."

Ariana blinked. "Excuse me?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Get dressed. We have a public appearance to make."

Her stomach dropped. "You mean… now?"

Damian smirked. "You wanted to prove them wrong, didn't you?"

---

The Price of Being Mrs. Kingsley

The moment Ariana stepped out of the sleek black Rolls Royse, cameras flashed like wildfire.

Reporters swarmed the entrance of the five-star Ainsworth Hotel, microphones and recorders shoved in their faces.

"Mr. Kingsley! How long have you been seeing Ms. Carter?"

"Ariana! Did you seduce a billionaire for money?"

"Is this a publicity stunt?"

Ariana stiffened. The whispers, the flashes, the accusations—it was overwhelming.

But before she could react, a warm, strong hand wrapped around her waist.

Damian pulled her close—his grip firm, possessive.

She sucked in a breath.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Smile, darling."

His voice was low, commanding.

And damn him, it sent shivers down her spine.

Ariana forced a smile, lifting her chin as if the insults meant nothing. If Damian could walk through fire without flinching, then so could she.

Together, they strode past the flashing cameras into the grand ballroom—where the real war was waiting.

---

High Society's Cold Welcome

The moment they entered, the air shifted.

It wasn't just the elite staring at them—it was judgment, curiosity, and envy all wrapped in one.

Billionaires, CEOs, politicians, their wives—Damian's world.

Ariana wasn't welcome here.

She could feel it in the way women whispered behind their champagne glasses, in the way men smirked, already dismissing her as temporary.

She swallowed.

Then she felt Damian's hand tighten on her waist.

A silent message. You belong here.

Before she could react, a woman in a blood-red dress approached.

Madeline Roycee.

The heiress of the Roycee empire.

And Damian's former fiancée.

Ariana went rigid as the woman's piercing blue eyes dragged over her, unimpressed.

"So," Madeline said, sipping her champagne, "you're the new entertainment."

Ariana's fingers curled around her clutch.

Before she could snap back, Damian's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Careful, Madeline." His tone was smooth, dangerous. "You're speaking to my fiancée."

Madeline arched a brow. "Fiancée? Or temporary accessory?"

Ariana smiled sweetly, refusing to be rattled. "Strange. I thought accessories were meant to be worn and discarded." She tilted her head. "And yet, you're still here."

Madeline's lips pressed into a thin line.

Damian chuckled—a low, amused sound. "I do enjoy a woman with a sharp tongue."

Ariana shot him a glare, but he only smirked.

Madeline scoffed, turning on her heel. "Enjoy your moment, darling. It won't last."

With that, she disappeared into the crowd.

Ariana let out a slow breath. "I hate her."

Damian smirked. "Then you'll hate most of this room."

Ariana's jaw clenched. If she was going to survive this, she had to fight back.

No more playing the victim.

She straightened her shoulders. "Then let's give them something to talk about."

Damian's gaze darkened slightly—approval.

Challenge accepted.

The music started.

Ariana barely had time to process what was happening before Damian grabbed her hand and led her onto the dance floor.

Her breath hitched as his arm slid around her waist, pulling her against him.

"Dance with me," he murmured.

It wasn't a request.

Ariana swallowed, letting him guide her into the waltz. His movements were effortless, precise—just like the way he handled business.

"I see you took my advice," he murmured.

She raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"

His lips brushed against her ear as they twirled. "Smile, darling."

Ariana's pulse skipped.

Damn him.

She didn't know if she wanted to slap him or kiss him just to shut him up.

Instead, she smirked. "I hope I'm playing my part well, then."

His eyes darkened. "Too well."

Something thick, electric crackled in the air between them.

And for a split second, Ariana forgot.

Forgot that this was fake. Forgot that he was dangerous.

All she knew was that she was in his arms, and she felt alive.

Hours later, they returned to the penthouse.

Ariana kicked off her heels, rubbing her sore feet. "Well, that was a nightmare."

Damian loosened his tie. "You handled it well."

She snorted. "High praise coming from you."

He smirked, but there was something off—something in his posture.

Ariana frowned. "You okay?"

For a moment, he didn't answer.

Then—so softly she almost didn't hear—

"I don't sleep much."

Ariana blinked.

The cold, ruthless Damian Kingsley looked… tired.

The moment passed as quickly as it came. He straightened, his mask slipping back into place.

"Good night, Mrs. Kingsley."

And just like that, he disappeared into his room.

Ariana stood there, heart pounding.

For the first time, she saw it.

The cracks in the ruthless billionaire.

And she wasn't sure whether to be terrified… or intrigued.

---

To Be Continued…