Chapter 5 - Red Wine and Sharp Words

The penthouse was too quiet.

Evelyn stood frozen near the door, her arms wrapped around herself, the echo of Serena's words still rattling in her mind.

"Let's see if she survives more than a month."

The venom in her voice. The smugness in her perfect smile. Evelyn had wanted to slap it off her face, to fire back something cutting. But Damian's hand on her waist had held her back, firm as a steel shackle.

Now, back in the safety of his world of glass and marble, that restraint felt suffocating.

Damian pulled off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it carelessly over a chair. His movements were precise, efficient. Not a single muscle wasted effort.

"You did well tonight," he said finally, his voice calm.

"Well?" Evelyn's laugh came out sharper than she intended. "I stood there like a prop while your ex sized me up like I was her competition for a designer handbag."

He glanced at her, one dark brow arching. "That's what this role requires. You agreed to it."

"I agreed to pretend to be your fiancée. I didn't agree to being humiliated in front of a room full of people who think I'm some… gold-digging placeholder!"

Damian's jaw tightened. "You're letting her get to you."

"Of course I am! Did you even hear what she said?"

"She's fishing for a reaction. You gave her one by letting it bother you."

Evelyn's hands curled into fists at her sides. "So I'm just supposed to smile and take it?"

"Yes." His answer was as cold and sharp as the city lights spilling through the windows. "That's the price of playing this part. You keep your composure. Always."

"Easy for you to say. You've been doing this your whole life. You fit here. I don't."

"You'll learn."

"I'm not a damn porcelain doll for you to polish and parade around!"

"Then act like it."

The words sliced through the air.

Evelyn flinched, heat rising in her chest—not just anger, but something else.

"You know what? Maybe Serena's right. Maybe I won't survive this."

"Then walk away."

His tone was so flat, so dismissive, it felt like a slap.

Evelyn's throat tightened. "Is that what you want? For me to quit so you can find some perfect little socialite who already knows how to play the game?"

Damian's eyes darkened dangerously. He closed the distance between them in two long strides.

"You think I care who plays the role?" His voice was low now, almost a growl. "You think I need you specifically?"

Evelyn's back hit the wall as he loomed over her.

"Yes," she shot back, chin tilting defiantly. "You chose me. You could've picked anyone, but you didn't."

Silence.

For a moment, the air between them crackled, heavy and electric. Evelyn could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint scent of his cologne.

Damian's gaze dropped to her lips for just a fraction of a second.

Then he stepped back abruptly, as if pulling himself from the edge of a cliff.

"Get some sleep," he said curtly. "We have an early meeting tomorrow."

Evelyn stared after him as he disappeared down the hall, her heart pounding like a war drum.

What the hell had that been?

She didn't sleep. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face—stone-cold and infuriatingly unreadable—hovering inches from hers.

By morning, she was still replaying the moment when her phone buzzed violently.

A headline blared on the screen:

"BREAKING: Damian Lu's Mystery Fiancée Sparks Jealousy in High Society"

"Insiders Claim Engagement Is A Publicity Stunt"

Her stomach sank as she scrolled through photos of her and Damian from the gala. Serena's red gown appeared in almost every frame, like a poisonous ribbon tying them all together.

At the bottom of the article, a line sent chills down her spine:

"Sources say Damian Lu was seen arguing with his fiancée after the event. Trouble in paradise already?"

The sound of footsteps pulled her back to reality. Damian appeared in the doorway, his phone in hand, his expression like a gathering storm.

"They're questioning the engagement," he said flatly.

Evelyn swallowed hard. "Because of Serena?"

"Because of us. Because you looked like you'd rather be anywhere but on my arm last night."

"I was nervous. It was my first time—"

"We're fixing it. Tonight."

"Fixing it? How?"

His gaze met hers, hard as granite.

"You're going to kiss me in front of the cameras."

Cliffhanger:

Evelyn's breath hitched. "What?"

"You heard me." His tone was calm, but his eyes burned with something fierce and unreadable. "We're going to show them this engagement is very, very real."