Naya's eyes darted around the glittering hallway. Too many people. Too many ears. If he shouted "fraud" now, she'd be swarmed, torn apart before she could even explain.
Damian must have seen the panic flicker across her face, because his smile curved like a blade. "Relax. I'm not going to ruin your little charade. Not yet."
Her stomach twisted. "Why not?"
"Because," he said smoothly, stepping closer, "I'm curious."
Naya fought to keep her voice firm, even as her pulse thudded in her ears. "Curiosity doesn't stop the law. If you know I'm not Damian Voss, then why are you letting me stand here?"
"Because you interest me more than the sharks in that ballroom," he murmured, lowering his head just slightly toward hers. His cologne,smoky, expensive, curled into her nose. "You walked into their world with a paper-thin disguise and nearly convinced them all you belong. That takes… audacity."
She tightened her grip on her phone until the plastic creaked. "Call it desperation. That's all it is."
"Desperation," he echoed, savoring the word like a fine wine. Then his voice dropped, "Tell me, how desperate are you?"
The question hung between them, scorching. Her throat worked, but no words came.
Before she could scrape together an answer, he gestured casually toward a side corridor. "Walk with me."
Her feet wouldn't move. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Then I'll raise my voice," Damian said mildly, as if discussing the weather. But the glitter in his eyes was sharp, merciless. "Shall I announce to the room that the infamous Damian Voss is actually a woman in drag? I imagine the photographers will eat it up. You'll be on every gossip column by morning."
Her blood iced. He wasn't bluffing.
Every instinct screamed to run, but her legs carried her forward, following him down the side corridor. The hum of the summit faded into the hush of marble walls and plush carpet. They stopped in a secluded alcove, velvet curtains draped like a stage set around them.
Damian turned, sliding his hands into his pockets with infuriating ease. He looked like he had all the time in the world. "Now. Who are you really?"
Her lips parted, but the truth jammed in her throat. She forced out, "Nobody important."
One dark brow arched. "Nobody important doesn't deliver a speech that makes half a room of billionaires lean forward in their seats."
Heat burned her face. She bit the inside of her cheek. "I just wanted them to hear the idea. Not the name behind it."
"Ah." His tone dripped with amusement. "So the name you stole was merely a stepping stone?"
Her chin snapped up. "I didn't steal your name. I borrowed it. There's a difference."
A laugh slipped from his mouth, low, rich, annoyingly warm. "Borrowed? Darling, you don't borrow a man's identity like a sweater from your best friend. You inhabit it. And you did it well enough to fool them."
"I'm not proud of it."
"You should be."
The praise caught her off guard, wobbling her composure. She blinked at him, unsettled.
Damian leaned forward, voice hushed but sharp. "You have two options. One, I expose you right now, and you lose everything. Two…" His eyes glinted, dangerous and amused. "…you keep the game going for me."
Her stomach flipped. "For you? Why?"
"Because my family expects me to perform at this summit," he said, his voice hardening into something colder. "They expect me to dazzle, to pitch, to smile for cameras. And frankly, I'd rather let someone else wear the mask. You've already proven you can play the role."
Naya's breath caught. "You're… asking me to keep impersonating you?"
"Not asking. Offering." His smirk deepened, sharp as glass. "In exchange, I'll make sure your… financial burdens disappear."
Her heart slammed. "What"
"Emergency bills, isn't it?"
She flinched. "How do you"
"I notice things." His voice cut like a knife. "The way your hand trembled when you read your phone backstage. The urgency in your answers. You're not here for fun. You're here because you're cornered."
Her throat tightened until her voice cracked. "So what? You'll dangle money over my head until I do your bidding?"
"Not money. Opportunity." His tone softened unexpectedly. "Play my part for one more pitch. One more appearance. You'll get what you need, and I get the freedom I crave."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, lungs scraping for air. It sounded too neat. Too clean. Too dangerous.
"And if I refuse?"
Damian's eyes glinted wolfish. "Then I'll walk back into that hall and introduce myself as the real Damian Voss. Care to imagine the headlines?"
Her stomach lurched. He had her caged, and he knew it.
She clenched her fists, fighting for defiance. "…You're a monster."
His lips curved faintly, as if she'd amused him. "Maybe. Or maybe I just found someone reckless enough to gamble with me."
He took a deliberate step closer, lowering his voice until the air itself seemed charged. "So, Miss Impostor… what's it going to be?"
Her pulse thundered in her skull. Every part of her screamed no, but her mother's face, pale and fragile on that couch, flickered in her mind.
She opened her mouth,
The velvet curtain behind them rustled. Damian straightened instantly, expression smoothing into cool, untouchable elegance.
"Damian?" A sharp, feminine voice pierced the hush.
Heels clicked against marble as a tall woman swept into the alcove. Perfectly coiffed hair, scarlet lips, diamonds dripping from her wrist, she was the kind of heiress who decorated glossy magazines, her posture declaring she owned every room she entered.
Her gaze snapped from Damian to Naya, and suspicion hardened her features. "Who is this?"
Naya's chest constricted, throat burning with the words she couldn't say.
Damian didn't miss a beat. His eyes slid to hers, then back to the woman, a wicked curve tugging at his mouth. "This," he said smoothly, "is a… partner. A new player you'll be seeing much more of."
Naya's blood iced. Partner? What the hell was he pulling her into?
The woman's narrowed eyes raked over Naya, lingering with a scrutiny that felt like a scalpel. "Partner?" she repeated, her voice cool, clipped. "Interesting choice."
Naya tried to speak, but Damian's hand brushed her elbow, a warning. Stay silent.
The heiress tilted her head, her smile thin and sharp. "Well, Damian, you've always had unconventional tastes in choosing your workers. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
Damian's answering smile was polite, practiced, but his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Surprise keeps the world interesting, don't you think?"
Their words crackled with unspoken tension. Naya stood between them, heat rising in her cheeks, a pawn on a board she didn't understand.
The woman's gaze pinned her again. "And what field are you in… partner?"
Naya's mouth went dry. She fumbled for words, but Damian's voice cut in smoothly, decisive. "Cybersecurity. Brilliant mind. Quite possibly the sharpest in the room today."
Naya nearly choked.
The woman's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Is that so?"
"Without a doubt." Damian's hand lingered at Naya's elbow, his voice rich with deliberate pride. "You'll see more of his work soon."
The silence stretched, taut as wire.
Finally, the heiress's painted lips curved faintly. "Well. I'll look forward to it."
She pivoted on her heel, heels clicking away down the hall.
Naya released a shaky breath. "What was that?" she hissed, whipping toward Damian.
"That," he said lazily, "was me protecting you."
"Protecting me? You just dragged me deeper into this!"
He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and maddening. "Welcome to the game, Miss Impostor."