Glares And Whispers

I wasn't supposed to be here, as shown by the repetitive echo of my shoes in the marble corridor. I was left to traverse Damon's world of power and polished dishonesty alone when he left to answer a call.

Hushed words drifted through the air as I approached the private lounge's doors. I stopped, intrigued by the whispers. Despite their cautious politeness throughout the evening, Damon's companions' tone had changed to one that was piercing and cutting.

With a tone full of contempt, a guy said, "I still can't believe he married her."

One lady said, "He must have a reason." "Damon needs an angle to do anything."

The first voice said, "Perhaps he's bored." Or maybe she's simply his most recent addition to the game. The poor animal most likely isn't even aware of it.

The blood rushed to my ears and I tensed.

The lady said in a contemptuous tone, "She's not his type." "Too... normal. One would assume that a guy like Damon Blackwell would choose someone more... appropriate.

My chest constricted as they laughed cruelly and low.

"Did you notice how she holds on to him?" Another guy added his voice. As if she fears he may vanish. Horrible.

A stab of rage sprang in my chest. I was surviving Damon, not clinging to him.

With her voice lowering, the lady cautioned, "Don't underestimate her." "I've seen ladies like that in the past. If it means continuing to be liked by Damon, she will fight her way to the top.

With assurance, the first guy said, "She has no chance." "No one stays with Damon for very long. As soon as she has fulfilled her role, she will go.

The knot tightened in my gut. Even though I was aware that our marriage was a sham, having it exposed in this way served as a harsh reminder of how vulnerable I was.

I became aware that the voices had ceased when there was an abrupt hush. The doors sprang open before I could get out.

"Mrs. Blackwell," the lady murmured, a veneer of cold civility covering her face. She had the appearance of someone who thrived on power plays thanks to her sharp features and well made outfit. "You weren't visible to us there."

With my pulse racing, I faked a grin. "I just happened to walk by."

Although the gleam of enjoyment in her eyes betrayed her, she answered, "Of course," with ease.

Behind her, the others poured out, their eyes darting to me with a mixture of contempt and curiosity. My head was held high, and I refused to let them enjoy my failure.

I turned to go as they vanished down the corridor, but I ran into a sturdy wall of muscle.

"Emma," Damon steadied me with his hands while spoke softly. "Why are you in this place?"

"I..." I paused, looking for a reason. "I was trying to find you."

His piercing blue eyes narrowed as he examined me. "What did you hear, too?"

I hurriedly answered, "Nothing important," but my voice faltered, deceiving me.

His jaw tensed, and I briefly believed he may push harder. Instead, his touch was shockingly kind as he touched my face.

He firmly said, "They don't matter." "Their viewpoints are meaningless."

"That's easy for you to say," I grumbled as I withdrew. You're Blackwell, Damon. Nobody doubts your position here.

He retorted, "And you're my wife," in a tone that left no space for debate. "You are untouchable because of that."

"Is it?" I retaliated violently, my pain and rage leaking forth. "Because I feel like a pawn in whatever game you're playing from where I'm standing."

His mask of control flickered off for a split second as his eyes darkened. "Emma, you're not a pawn."

"So what am I?" I raised my voice and demanded.

A shadow moved in the corner of my eye before he could respond. As Victoria came into view, her red lips curving into a knowing grin, I turned, gasping for air.

"Are you interrupting something?" she said in a soft voice.

Damon's hand left my face and his stance became rigid. "Victoria, not right now."

Her eyes shifted to me as she murmured, "Oh, but it's such a riveting conversation." "Emma, you have to tell me what it's like to be in control of the devil."

"Victoria," Damon said in a warning tone, but she disregarded him and moved toward me.

Her eyes gleamed with something unfathomable as she said, "You're playing a dangerous game." "And there are no guarantees in Damon's world."

I refused to be intimidated and looked her in the eye. "He is not a threat to me."

Her chuckle was harsh and low. "You ought to be."

Damon said, "Enough," in a cold voice. "Go, Victoria."

Her grin faded as she cocked her head. "Obviously. Don't claim I didn't warn her, however.

The tension that was between Damon and me lingered after she left.

"What was that about?" My question was hardly audible above a whisper.

He turned aside and replied curtly, "There's nothing to worry about."

I said in exasperation, "Stop ignoring me, Damon." "I need to know what's happening if I'm supposed to play this role."

I thought he may open up for a second when he halted with his back to me. However, his face was a mask of icy indifference as he turned.

He said bluntly, "You have everything you need to play your part." "Remain true to it."

I recoiled as the words struck me like a slap, and my chest constricted. "You don't believe me."

With a clipped tone, he said, "It's not about trust." "The goal is to survive."

He left before I could reply, leaving me alone myself in the deserted corridor.

The weight of his words descended upon me as his footsteps ceased.

The only law that applied in Damon's universe was the law of survival.

I also doubted if I would survive this one year .