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 "That access should've been revoked."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." ‎