Chapter 2

The air in Damien’s office smelled like cedar wood and a coming storm. Four years later, I still knew that scent before I saw his face. I stood right by the huge glass windows, looking out at the city buildings below. From up here, the traffic looked silent. The people looked small enough to disappear.

​He always liked being at the very top. But looking at him now, standing against the glass, he didn’t look like a winner. He just looked completely alone.

​My phone buzzed in my hand. I hoped it was good news, but it was just an email from the boss of my building project in Brooklyn.

​Subject: Project Update

​Ellie, because of all the messy news stories right now, our board has decided to go with someone else. We like your drawings, but we need to keep a clean image for this new building. We will pay your final bill by Friday.

​I squeezed my phone so hard the edges hurt my skin. That project was supposed to pay my rent for the next six months. It was the biggest piece of my own business, the only proof I had that I could make it out there without any help.

​"The Brooklyn project?" Damien’s voice broke the silence. He was sitting at his desk, tapping on a tablet. He didn't even have to look at me to know. He always knew something was wrong before I said a word.

​"They dropped me," I said, my voice shaking. "Just like the other company did."

​"They are cowards," he said, finally looking up. His eyes were steady, but his jaw tightened, and he looked away toward the far wall for a split second before focusing back on me. "They see an ugly headline and they run."

​"They don't run from headlines, Damien. They run from you." I turned to face him, the blue silk of my dress rustling loudly in the quiet room. "I spent four whole years making a name for myself that had nothing to do with the Calder family. Four years of living in cheap apartments with leaky ceilings and taking every tiny job just to prove I could do it. And in four hours, it is all gone."

​Damien stood up and walked toward me slowly. He didn’t rush, but his hands were curled tight into fists at his sides. "That’s why this marriage paperwork exists, Ellie. To give you back the power they just took from you. I won't let them ruin your life just because of me."

​"Having power isn't the same as being free."

​I looked away to escape his heavy stare, but my eyes landed right on his desk. Next to his computer was an old, scratched leather binder. My breath stopped. It was my old college sketchbook—the one with my very first, messy ideas for hotels. The edges were torn and dirty from being held so many times. He hadn't thrown it away. He kept it right where he could see it every single day.

​A sharp, painful ache hit me right in the chest. He wasn't just trying to fix a business mess; he was holding onto a memory.

​Four years ago.

​The rain was beating hard against the windows of Damien’s penthouse. Inside, it was warm and smelled like fresh flowers. I was sitting on the floor of his office, surrounded by drawings for a small hotel in Vermont. It was my first real job. It was small, but it was mine.

​"Ellie, are you still working?" Damien had walked in, pulling his tie loose. He looked exhausted from all the heavy work his grandfather put on him, but when he saw me, he stopped completely, his gaze locked onto mine as if he were trying to memorize my face.

​"I just need to finish this lobby design," I said, smiling up at him. "The client wants it to feel cozy and close. It’s hard, but I like it."

​He walked over and looked down at my drawings. He didn't say anything for a long time. Then, he gently pointed to a corner of the paper. "If you move the stairs to the middle, you can fit twice as many people inside. It makes more sense for business."

​"But it ruins the cozy feeling," I argued softly. "The whole point is for people to see the fireplace. They want to feel hidden away and comfortable, not like they are in a factory."

​"Feelings don't pay the bills, Ellie. Good business does." He sat on the edge of the desk, his eyes darting across my sketches with a tense, worried focus. "Why are you stressing over this tiny place anyway? I talked to a big manager today. There’s an open spot on the design team for the massive Calder Plaza building. I told him you’d take the job."

​The pencil in my hand snapped in half. "You did what?"

​"It will make your career," he said, his voice dropping to a low, quiet whisper as he reached out toward me, his hand stopping just short of touching my shoulder. "You’ll be working on a billion-dollar project instead of a ten-room shack. My grandfather is already screaming at me about us dating, Ellie. If you work inside my company, he can't touch you. I can protect you here. I can give you everything."

​"I don't want you to just give it to me," I whispered, feeling completely smothered by his huge world. "I want to earn it myself. If I take this, your grandfather will always think I am just a poor girl you bought. I will completely disappear, Damien."

​"You could never disappear to me," he murmured, gently brushing a piece of hair out of my face. His fingers lingered on my skin for a second too long, trembling slightly before he pulled his hand away. He didn't understand that his protection felt like a cage to me.

​That same night, his grandfather, Arthur Calder, called me to meet him in private. The old man didn't even raise his voice. He just laid out papers showing how he would completely ruin my career and destroy Damien’s future if I stayed. 'He will break himself trying to build a wall to protect you, Eleanor,' Arthur had whispered, tapping his expensive cane against the floor. 'Walk away, or watch him burn.'

​I packed one bag, left my key on the kitchen counter, and walked out into the pouring rain. I never saw his face when he realized I was gone.

​"Ellie?"

​Damien’s voice brought me back to reality. He was standing right in front of me now. He didn't touch me, but I could feel the heat coming off him.

​"The press meeting starts in twenty minutes," he said, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths. "My stylist is in the next room. She has clothes for you to wear."

​"I have my own clothes, Damien."

​"You have a raincoat and a scared look," he said softly, his arm twitching slightly as if he wanted to reach out but forced himself to stay perfectly still. "The world needs to see the woman who has supposedly been my secret partner for years. They need to see someone strong and rich, not a regular worker who just lost her last job. Let me protect you this time. Please."

​Hearing that soft tone in his voice made it hard for me to breathe. He wasn't trying to boss me around anymore. He was just staring at me like a man who was terrified he was about to watch me vanish all over again.

​"Fine," I said. "Where is she?"

​"In the next room. Ellie?"

​I stopped, holding the door handle.

​"Don't look at me like that," he said, his eyes darkening as he gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

​"Like what?"

​"Like I'm the one who broke your heart. You’re the one who walked out and left me alone in the dark, remember?"

​"I walked out to save both of us, Damien. There’s a big difference."

​I closed the door quickly before he could see me start to cry.

​The stylist worked fast without saying much. In forty minutes, she had me dressed in a gown that cost more than my car. It was a dark, midnight blue color, and it fit so perfectly it felt like a suit of armor. My hair was pulled back into a tight, neat bun. I looked in the mirror and didn't even know the girl looking back at me.

​She looked rich. She looked untouchable. She looked like a member of the Calder family.

​My phone buzzed again. This time it was a phone call from a number I didn't know, but I answered it anyway.

​"Hello?"

​"Is this Ellie Harper?" a man’s loud, fast voice asked. "I am a reporter for the Daily Ledger. We have information saying you were kicked out of your last apartment because you couldn't pay rent. How does that fit into your secret romance with the richest guy in the world?"

​"I wasn't kicked out," I said, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs. "I just moved. Who is this?"

​"We have the legal papers, Ellie. Or should we just call you the billionaire’s charity case?"

​I hung up, gasping for air. They were digging into everything. My missed payments from two years ago when I was sick with pneumonia. The credit card debt I had to take on just to keep my tiny business alive. I could tell Damien's grandfather was already behind this leak.

​The door opened and Damien walked in. He saw the pure terror on my face, ran across the room in three big steps, and gently took the phone out of my shaking hands.

​"What happened?"

​"They know everything," I whispered, feeling like the walls were closing in on me. "They are looking at my bank accounts, Damien. They are going to tell everyone I am poor and struggling. They are going to say I am a fake. Your grandfather... he is going to make sure they destroy me."

​Damien grabbed my shoulders tightly. He held me firmly against him, his broad chest rising and falling rapidly as he blocked my view of the rest of the room. He didn't look proud. He didn't look powerful. He looked terrified. "Listen to me. No one is going to destroy you. I already bought the company that owns that newspaper. That story is dead. My grandfather thinks he can control this, but he doesn't get to hurt you anymore."

​I looked up at him, shocked by the sudden, raw edge in his voice.

​"Now, stay strong," he whispered. His hands moved up to touch my face, his fingers catching a single tear before they slid down to lock around my wrists, holding me steady. He didn't look away from me for a single second. "We are going down there, and you are going to smile. You are going to let them see exactly why I would never let you go."

​He stepped back and offered me his arm. I waited for a split second, looking at the exit door, and then back at him.

​Four years of distance disappeared the second I touched him. My hand settled on his arm before I could stop it, and I hated how natural it felt. Arthur wanted us apart. Instead, I was walking into a room beside Damien again. Maybe that was the real problem, every road kept leading back to him.

​"Let’s get this over with," I said.

​As we walked toward the elevators, our loud footsteps echoed down the hallway. I was stepping right back into the scary world I had almost drowned in before, but this time, looking at Damien's strong, protective shoulders, I knew I wasn't the only one fighting to stay alive.