The following morning began like any other, with the quiet hum of the mansion waking to life. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, and the soft rustle of the staff moving through the halls echoed faintly. Eleanor stood in front of her mirror, fastening a delicate silver bracelet around her wrist. She wasn't dressing up for anyone, yet a strange desire to look… presentable tugged at her.
After all, Damian would see her.
Shaking her head at the thought, she stepped out of her room and made her way to the dining hall. Damian was already seated at the head of the long table, his sharp gray eyes lifting to meet hers as she entered.
"Good morning," he said simply, though his gaze lingered for a second too long.
"Good morning," she replied, offering him a soft smile as she sat across from him.
Breakfast was quiet, as usual, but there was something different today—a subtle warmth in the way he watched her, in the way his expression softened when she thanked the maid or sipped her tea carefully. It was almost as if he was seeing her differently, though he said nothing.
Finally, Damian broke the silence. "I have meetings for most of the day, but I'll be home earlier tonight."
Eleanor nodded. "All right. I'll… be here."
His lips curved slightly, almost into a smile, but he quickly looked away, sipping his coffee.
---
The day passed slowly. Eleanor spent hours wandering through the mansion, occasionally stopping to speak to the staff. They were polite, almost overly formal, treating her as though she were some delicate treasure. It felt strange—she was used to being invisible, not someone people looked at with awe.
By afternoon, she returned to the library, curling up in one of the soft chairs with a book. But her mind refused to focus on the words. Instead, it kept drifting to Damian—his intense gaze, the way he had tucked her hair behind her ear last night, the unspoken tension that lingered every time they were near each other.
Her heart fluttered at the memory, but she quickly pushed the thought aside. This wasn't real love. This was an arrangement—a marriage for her protection. Falling for him was dangerous.
Still, no matter how many times she reminded herself, her heart refused to listen.
---
Evening arrived sooner than she expected. The soft roar of Damian's car engine announced his return, and Eleanor found herself standing near the entrance before she even realized she had moved there.
Damian stepped inside, loosening his tie as he walked. He looked tired, his usual composed mask slightly cracked by exhaustion. But when his gaze landed on her, his steps slowed, and a faint spark of something softened his expression.
"You're waiting for me again," he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.
Eleanor felt heat creep up her neck. "I just wanted to… welcome you back."
Something unreadable flickered in his gray eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence thick with unspoken words.
Finally, Damian nodded slightly. "I appreciate that."
---
Dinner was different tonight. They sat closer this time, Damian choosing a seat just a few places away from hers instead of across the long table. Conversation flowed more naturally, though still guarded. Eleanor found herself laughing softly at one of his rare dry remarks, and to her surprise, Damian's lips curved into a faint smile.
After dinner, instead of retreating to his study, Damian surprised her by asking, "Would you like to walk in the garden?"
Eleanor's heart skipped. "Yes… I'd like that."
---
The garden was bathed in soft golden lights, the air cool and scented with fresh roses. They walked side by side in comfortable silence, the sound of their footsteps crunching lightly against the gravel path. Eleanor stole glances at him occasionally, wondering what he was thinking.
Finally, she spoke. "Do you always work this much?"
Damian gave a small shrug. "Work keeps me focused. It leaves little room for… distractions."
Eleanor tilted her head, curiosity in her eyes. "And am I a distraction now?"
At her question, Damian stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His gaze was intense, his gray eyes locking onto hers in a way that made her breath hitch.
"Yes," he said quietly, almost like a confession. "You are."
Eleanor's heart pounded. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Damian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming yet strangely comforting.
"Eleanor," he said, his voice lower now, "this marriage was supposed to be an arrangement. A way to protect you. But…" His jaw tightened, as though he was battling himself. "…you're making it harder to keep this just business."
Her breath caught, her heart racing wildly. She had dreamed of hearing those words, but now that they were real, she didn't know what to say.
"Damian…" she whispered.
For a long moment, they stood there, the air thick with tension. Then, almost hesitantly, Damian reached out, his fingers brushing against her hand. His touch was gentle, almost questioning, as if he were giving her the choice to pull away.
She didn't.
Instead, Eleanor let her fingers curl around his, and something shifted in his gaze—something softer, something unguarded.
"I don't know what this means for us," Damian admitted quietly. "But I can't pretend I don't… feel anything anymore."
Her heart soared at his words, though fear still lingered at the edges of her thoughts. This was dangerous. Their marriage was meant to be a secret, temporary arrangement. Feelings would only complicate everything.
But when Damian's hand closed fully around hers, warm and reassuring, Eleanor couldn't bring herself to care.
For the first time since their secret wedding, it didn't feel like they were just protecting each other.
It felt like the beginning of something neither of them could stop.