It had been two weeks since Lena moved into the penthouse.
Two weeks of quiet dinners, distant glances, and perfectly staged public appearances. To the world, they were the ideal couple poised, powerful, untouchable.
But behind closed doors, they were strangers playing house.
Still, something had shifted since the dinner with Harold Blackwood. Damien wasn't quite as cold. His gaze lingered longer. He spoke a little softer.
Lena didn't know what to do with that.
Tuesday Morning At The Penthouse
Lena stepped into the kitchen and found Damien already there, dressed for the day, sipping black coffee. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms and the subtle ink of a tattoo that peeked just below his watch. She hadn't noticed that before.
"You're up early," he said without looking at her.
"I couldn't sleep," she replied, grabbing a mug. "Your father's face keeps haunting me."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Damien's mouth. "He has that effect."
Lena leaned against the counter. "He doesn't like me."
"He doesn't like anyone. Don't take it personally."
"I don't. But I'm curious… what happened between you two?"
Damien's gaze snapped to hers, sharp again.
A beat of silence passed before he said, "That's not part of the contract."
Lena flinched at the wall going back up. "Right. Of course."
She turned away, swallowing the lump in her throat. Why did it sting so much?
Later That Day –The Storm
That afternoon, rain poured over the city in thick sheets. Lena was curled up on the penthouse couch, reading a book when Tessa rushed in.
"Emergency board meeting," she said. "Mr. Blackwood needs you there. Now."
Lena blinked. "What? Why?"
"Because a tabloid leaked photos from the gala. Rumors are spreading that your marriage is fake. The board wants proof."
Lena shot to her feet. "What kind of proof?"
Tessa gave her a look. "Emotional. Intimate. Convincing."
Blackwood Enterprises – 40th Floor Conference Room
The room was filled with men in suits and cold ambition. Damien stood at the head of the table, mask firmly in place.
Lena entered just as one of the board members spoke.
"She's pretty, but this smells like a PR stunt," he sneered. "No affection. No history. No chemistry."
Lena's stomach twisted.
Then Damien did something completely unexpected.
He reached for her hand. Pulled her closer. And in front of everyone… he kissed her.
It wasn't a brief peck.
It was a full, heated, commanding kiss slow and deliberate, with just enough possession to make the room go silent.
Lena barely remembered how to breathe.
When he pulled back, he looked directly at the doubting board member. "Still think it's fake?"
The man coughed and looked away.
The meeting ended ten minutes later.
That Night
They sat in the car in silence, rain streaking the windows.
Lena stared at her reflection in the glass, her lips still tingling.
"You didn't have to kiss me like that," she whispered.
Damien's voice was low. "Would you have preferred something more... believable?"
She turned to him, her voice barely steady. "You keep saying this is fake, Damien. But it didn't feel fake."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he reached over and gently brushed her damp hair behind her ear. His touch was careful almost reverent.
"I don't do relationships," he said quietly. "I don't do feelings. But… you make that hard."
Then he opened the car door and stepped out, leaving her there, stunned.
For the first time, Lena wasn't sure who was pretending anymore.