His Wife By Midnight

The elevator doors slid open.

‎A silhouette stood there.

‎Slim. Tall. Draped in red.

‎Long dark curls spilling over bare shoulders.

‎My breath caught.

‎Damon's fingers tightened around my wrist but then loosened.

‎His entire body shifted...

‎not into fear but anger.

‎Cold, sharp anger.

‎"Elena."

‎The woman stepped forward, heels clicking against the polished floor like she owned the sound.

‎When the lights flickered back to full brightness, her face became clear.

‎Of course I recognized her.

‎Elena Knight.

‎Supermodel.

‎Brand ambassador.

‎The woman every gossip blog had once paired with Damon Black.

‎And the woman who now stared at me like she'd caught a thief rummaging through her drawers.

‎Her red lips curved into a slow, poisonous smile.

‎"Well" she purred "I see the rumors were true."

‎My throat tightened. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

‎She flicked her gaze over me, head to toe, like I was a stain on the floor.

‎"I needed to speak to Damon" she said. "Privately."

‎Damon stepped in front of me, blocking her view.

‎"You used my elevator override" he said flatly. "Who gave you access?"

‎She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. "You did, remember? Six months ago. When you still cared."

‎A muscle jumped in Damon's jaw. "That access should've been revoked."

‎

‎"Mm." She tapped the elevator panel with one manicured nail. "Looks like someone forgot."

‎

‎Her attention drifted over his shoulder back to me.

‎

‎"And who is she again?" Elena asked sweetly. "Your new... assistant?"

‎

‎Before I could open my mouth, Damon said "My wife."

‎

‎His voice didn't rise.

‎It didn't need to.

‎

‎It struck like a thunderclap.

‎Elena's smile vanished.

‎

‎She blinked once... twice... then laughed.

‎

‎Loud. Disbelieving.

‎

‎"Damon" she whispered, stepping closer, "you didn't."

‎

‎His eyes didn't blink. "I did."

‎

‎Her gaze snapped to me, sharper this time, her expression twisting with something ugly.

‎"So this... little girl," she said, each word dripping venom, "is the reason you've been ignoring my calls? Canceling meetings? Avoiding events?"

‎I stiffened behind Damon, heat flushing my face.

‎Little girl.

‎"You're trespassing" Damon said quietly. "Say what you came to say and leave."

‎Her red painted nail tapped against her thigh. "You were supposed to announce our partnership next week. Knight Agency already informed the board."

‎A chill raced down my spine. The board?

‎

‎Elena worked with Black Corp's board?

‎Her voice turned low, almost proud. "Some of your shareholders still prefer me by your side. They think I'm... stabilizing."

‎Stabilizing?

‎Was that code for controllable?

‎Damon didn't flinch. "The board will adjust."

‎"And what about me?" Elena demanded. "You just dropped me without warning? Without explanation?"

‎For the first time tonight, Damon's voice held a faint edge of impatience.

‎"Elena. Go home."

‎Her gaze slid back to me, her eyes narrowing to thin slits.

‎"You won't last," she whispered venomously. "Girls like you never do."

‎Before I could react, Damon spoke sharply:

‎"Enough."

‎The command cut through the air.

‎Elena flinched and for a split second, fear flickered in her eyes.

‎She turned around sharply, heels clicking viciously as she stormed back to the elevator.

‎But just before the doors closed, she pointed two fingers toward me.

‎"Careful," she said, her voice dripping with threat. "You're playing in a world you don't understand."

‎The doors slid shut.

‎Silence swallowed the hall.

‎I exhaled shakily, leaning against the wall. "Who is she really, Damon?"

‎He didn't answer immediately.

‎Instead, he dragged a hand through his hair something he'd never done in front of me.

‎A sign of stress.

‎"Elena is a problem" he said at last. "One I thought I'd handled."

‎"But she works with Black Corp's board?"

‎

‎"A minority of them," he corrected sharply. "Not all."

‎

‎"And they prefer her with you?" I asked, my voice small.

‎

‎His eyes locked onto mine.

‎

‎"They prefer control," he said quietly. "And Elena gives them the illusion of it."

‎The illusion.

‎So she was a pawn. A beautiful one.

‎But still a pawn.

‎"And me?" I asked before I could stop myself. "What do I give them?"

‎Damon took one slow step toward me.

‎Then another.

‎Until his shadow blended with mine.

‎"You" he murmured, "give them nothing. And that's why you're dangerous to them."

‎Dangerous. Me.

‎My pulse quickened.

‎"But you didn't bring me here for them," I whispered.

‎"No," he answered. "I brought you here for me."

‎My breath stuck in my throat.

‎He didn't explain further.

‎He simply turned toward the door.

‎"We leave at nine in the morning" he said. "Wear something formal."

‎"For what?"

‎"You're coming to Black Corp."

‎Before I could say anything else he left.

‎Then I entered back inside the room and went straight to the bed.

‎I barely slept.

‎Every time I closed my eyes, Elena's words replayed: You won't last.

‎When morning came, I dressed in one of the new outfits inside the closet Damon provided. A soft cream blouse tucked into a fitted navy skirt.

‎Simple. Safe.

‎Very unlike me.

‎I stepped out into the living room.

‎Damon was already there.

‎In a charcoal suit that looked like it cost more than my mother's surgery.

‎Tall.

‎Cold.

‎Impossible to read.

‎His eyes swept over me once, slow, lingering, unreadable.

‎"Good," he said, as if approving an employee's uniform. "Let's eat." Then he went to the dinning area.

‎He walked past me to seat down.

‎The long table had already been set, white porcelain plates, crystal glasses, and neatly folded linen napkins waiting in silence.

‎Then chef entered first.

‎He was tall, dressed in crisp white, his movements calm and precise.

‎"Good morning Sir, Good morning Ma" the chef said with a slight bow. "Breakfast is served."

‎"Good morning" I answered. But Damon answered with a nod.

‎He began to place the dishes one by one.

‎First came a fluffy vegetable omelette, golden at the edges, steam still rising from its surface.

‎Beside it, he laid warm, buttered toast, cut into neat triangles.

‎Then a bowl of creamy oatmeal, crowned with sliced bananas and a drizzle of honey.

‎A glass of fresh orange juice caught the light as he set it gently near the plate.

‎Each plate was positioned with careful precision, as if the food itself were royalty.

‎The chef stepped back, hands folded behind him.

‎"Should you require anything else, I will be close by," he said before turning smoothly on his heel and leaving the room in quiet elegance.

‎The only sound left was the soft clink of cutlery and the weight of everything that had not yet been said.

‎After eating we left for the car.

‎The car was silent.

‎But Damon wasn't calm.

‎Not truly.

‎I saw it in the way his fingers tapped against his thigh.

‎The way his jaw tightened when his phone buzzed.

‎The board was probably waiting.

‎Or watching.

‎"Stay close to me when we arrive" he said. "Don't speak to anyone unless I tell you to."

‎I frowned. "Is it that dangerous?"

‎"Yes."

‎Just that.

‎No added explanation.

‎I turned toward the window. The city rushed by, tall buildings blurring into silver streaks.

‎"Damon?" I asked quietly.

‎He didn't look at me.

‎"Was Elena telling the truth? Were you supposed to announce something with her?"

‎His silence answered for him.

‎My chest tightened.

‎"Was she supposed to be your wife?" I asked before I could stop myself.

‎His gaze snapped to mine cold, but sharp, almost offended.

‎"No" he said firmly. "Never."

‎I swallowed. "Then why was she so sure you belonged to her?"

‎He turned his head away, expression darkening.

‎"Because people like Elena believe ownership is the same thing as attention."

‎"Is it?" ‎His voice went quiet.

‎"Not with me."

‎He didn't elaborate. And I didn't ask again.

‎The car turned onto a private drive.

‎Black Corp's headquarters, security posted everywhere.

‎All eyes turned as our car approached.

‎Damon stepped out first.

‎Then he extended a hand for me.

‎I placed my fingers in his and his grip tightened just slightly.

‎We walked through the gates together.

‎People whispered.

‎Phones lifted discreetly.

‎Even the guards stared.

‎Damon didn't look at any of them. But every single one looked at me.

‎And not kindly.

‎

‎Inside the lobby, a group of executives stood waiting.

‎Among them is a pair of cold, calculating eyes fixed right on me.

‎Not Elena but someone worse.

‎A shareholder.

‎Damon's hand brushed mine again barely a touch.

‎"Don't react" he murmured.

‎"Why?" I whispered.

‎His jaw tightened.

‎"Because the man walking toward us," he said, "is one of the people who wanted Elena at my side."

‎The man stopped in front of us, lips curling into a thin, sharp smile.

‎"Mr. Black," he said. "And... the wife we didn't know you married."

‎His eyes gleamed with suspicion.

‎With threat.

‎With knowledge.

‎Damon's grip on me tightened imperceptibly.

‎"Careful," he whispered near my ear. "This is where things get dangerous."

‎