The First Public Appearance

Three days later, Ariana stood in front of a towering mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back at her.

The silk gown hugged her figure perfectly sleek, elegant, and unquestionably expensive. The emerald green fabric brought out the hazel flecks in her eyes. Her hair had been styled into soft waves cascading down her shoulders, and the subtle touch of makeup made her features more striking than ever.

"You look stunning, Miss Blake," Elise said with a small nod of approval.

Ariana offered a faint smile, but her stomach twisted with nerves. Tonight would be her first public appearance as Damien Lancaster's wife.

"Elise..." she hesitated, "what exactly is this event?"

Elise remained professional as always.

"It's a charity gala, heavily attended by media, investors, and business partners. Mr. Lancaster's presence is expected and so is yours."

Ariana's pulse quickened.

"All eyes will be on us."

"Yes," Elise said softly. "It's important that you present the image of a perfectly happy couple."

Ariana inhaled sharply, steadying herself.

She was about to step into a world where every glance, every smile, every word would be analyzed and whispered about. One misstep could spark rumors.

As the limousine pulled up to the grand ballroom entrance, Ariana's breath caught at the sight of flashing cameras and a sea of reporters.

The driver opened the door, and Damien stepped out first, his black tuxedo perfectly tailored, his expression cold and commanding.

He extended his hand toward her.

"Come."

Ariana placed her hand in his, the warmth of his touch surprising her for a brief moment.

The flashes erupted like lightning as they walked the red carpet together.

"Mr. Lancaster! Over here!"

"Is this your new wife?"

"When did you get married?"

"Congratulations, Mrs. Lancaster!"

The questions fired like bullets, but Damien's face remained a mask of cool indifference. His grip on Ariana's hand tightened slightly, silently signaling her to stay composed.

They entered the glittering ballroom, the air heavy with perfume, wealth, and ambition. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above, while classical music played softly in the background.

Ariana forced a graceful smile as guests approached.

"Damien, darling!" a woman cooed, air-kissing him on both cheeks. "And this must be your lovely wife. We've heard so much about you."

Ariana's cheeks flushed slightly, but she kept her smile intact.

"Thank you. It's a pleasure."

Damien placed a hand lightly on her waist, guiding her through the crowd with precision. His touch was firm, possessive not of affection, but of control.

Throughout the evening, Ariana watched him move effortlessly among the powerful: exchanging calculated words, offering polite smiles, always maintaining the perfect image of authority.

She admired his skill, even if part of her resented how easily he wore the mask.

During a brief lull, Ariana leaned in slightly.

"Do you ever get tired of pretending?" she whispered.

Damien's eyes flickered, but his voice remained steady.

"Pretending is survival, Mrs. Lancaster."

The way he said it sent a strange chill down her spine.

Suddenly, a sharp voice interrupted their moment.

"Damien."

A tall, sharply dressed man approached, his thin smile lacking any genuine warmth. His eyes briefly flickered to Ariana before returning to Damien with veiled arrogance.

"Richard Caldwell," Damien acknowledged coolly.

"Quite a surprise to see you here... with a wife," Richard said, the edge in his voice unmistakable. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Damien replied flatly.

Richard's gaze shifted back to Ariana, lingering a bit too long.

"You must be very lucky, Mrs. Lancaster."

Ariana maintained her polite smile.

"I am."

Damien's hand subtly tightened at her waist a silent warning.

The tension between the two men was palpable, though neither raised their voices. It was a silent battle of power, one Ariana sensed had deeper roots than tonight.

After Richard walked away, Ariana whispered, "Who was that?"

"An old rival," Damien said simply, his jaw slightly clenched. "Stay away from him."

His tone allowed no room for argument.

As the night drew to a close, Damien and Ariana posed once more for the flashing cameras before entering the waiting limousine.

Inside, silence hung heavy between them.

"You handled yourself well tonight," Damien finally said, his voice softer than usual.

Ariana looked out the window, the weight of the evening finally crashing down.

"Thank you... though I'm not sure how many more nights like this I can take."

"You'll adapt," Damien said quietly. "We both have to."

For a brief moment, his gaze softened as if, behind the cold exterior, there was something more fragile hiding.

But just as quickly, the mask returned.

That night, as Ariana lay in her large, unfamiliar bed, the city lights blinking through the glass walls, one thought repeated in her mind:

"What exactly have I gotten myself into?"

And in the dark corner of his study, Damien stood once again by the window, staring into the night, lost in thoughts he never spoke aloud.