Sienna barely had a moment to recover from Ethan and Jessica's ambush before Damien led her deeper into the event hall.
The gala was in full swing—elegant guests mingling, champagne glasses clinking, the scent of roses and expensive perfume filling the air.
But she could feel it.
The eyes watching them.
The whispers.
The unspoken questions.
Was Damien Blackwood really in love? Or was this just another one of his power plays?
Sienna squared her shoulders, forcing herself to meet the challenge head-on.
She was here to play a role. And she refused to let anyone see her doubt.
Damien, of course, was unreadable as always—except for the way his grip on her waist hadn't loosened since their encounter with their exes.
A reporter nearby whispered something into her colleague's ear. Another couple glanced at them, their expressions filled with curiosity.
Then someone spoke, loud enough for everyone to hear—
"They don't look that in love."
The words settled over the room like a challenge.
Damien's jaw tightened. Sienna's stomach twisted.
And then—
He turned to her, his voice smooth and dangerous.
"Dance with me."
Her breath hitched. "What?"
He leaned in, his lips just beside her ear. "Let's give them something to talk about."
Before she could protest, he took her hand and guided her onto the dance floor.
The music slowed—soft, intimate, the kind of melody that belonged to whispered confessions and stolen moments.
Damien pulled her closer, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other clasping her fingers.
Heat spread through her body, unexpected and impossible to ignore.
Sienna knew this was for show.
She knew.
But when she looked up into Damien's eyes, something flickered there—something intense, unreadable, real.
Her pulse quickened.
"You don't have to do this," she whispered.
His grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly. "Yes, I do."
The room around them faded.
It was just them.
The rhythm of the music. The warmth of his touch. The way his fingers traced slow, lazy circles against the fabric of her dress.
She was supposed to be playing a role.
So why did this feel so real?
"Sienna."
Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine.
She swallowed hard. "What?"
His gaze dropped to her lips, just for a second, before locking back onto her eyes.
"Smile," he murmured. "We have an audience."
She forced a soft smile, even as her heart pounded against her ribs.
His hand moved slightly, fingers brushing over the exposed skin of her back. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through her.
This was dangerous.
This was reckless.
And yet—
She wasn't sure she wanted him to stop.
Around them, the whispers grew louder. The reporters took notes, the photographers snapped pictures.
And then—
Damien did something that shattered the last bit of distance between them.
He leaned in.
Close.
So close their lips were almost touching.
Sienna's breath caught.
Time slowed.
She didn't know if he was really going to kiss her or if this was just another carefully calculated move.
All she knew was that if he did—
She wouldn't pull away.
But at the last second, Damien shifted course.
His lips brushed her cheek instead, lingering just long enough to make her skin tingle.
A calculated move.
And yet—
Her knees felt weak.
When he finally pulled back, there was something in his eyes—something unreadable, something dangerous.
"Perfect," he murmured.
Sienna's chest tightened.
Was he talking about the performance?
Or the way she had completely forgotten it was one?