Chapter 3: Unveiled in the Dark

The gates of the Kingsley Estate didn't just open; they parted like the entrance to a private kingdom.

Avery stared out the window of the sleek, black limousine as it wound up the endless, tree-lined driveway. The mansion loomed in the distance, a breathtaking masterpiece of modern architecture blended with classic gothic stone. It was vast, imposing, and undeniably beautiful.

But Avery didn't look at it with the starry-eyed greed her sister Kendra would have shown. She looked at it with a quiet, grounded resolve.

It’s just stone and glass, she reminded herself, keeping her chin high. It’s a gilded cage, nothing more. I am here for Grandma. I will not let this wealth swallow who I am.

When the limo came to a smooth halt, the chauffeur opened the door. Damien stepped out first, his movements fluid and confident despite his silver-tipped cane. He didn't wait for her, but as Avery stepped onto the gravel, she found him standing by the grand entrance, waiting.

The double doors opened, revealing a cavernous, luxury-designed foyer.

"Welcome home, sir. Madam," a butler in a crisp suit bowed deeply.

"Leave us, Marcus," Damien commanded smoothly, his voice echoing off the high marble ceilings. "I will show my wife around myself. Nobody is to disturb us tonight."

"Of course, sir." With a swift nod, the staff vanished into the shadows of the massive house, leaving Avery entirely alone with him.

The silence that settled over the foyer was heavy, charged with the lingering electricity of their wedding kiss.

Damien turned to face her, his pitch-black glasses fixed directly on her. "Do you like it?" he asked, his voice low.

"It's... very grand," Avery replied, keeping her voice even and polite, determined not to sound like a gold-digger. "Though, I suppose you don't care much for the view."

A faint, sharp smirk played on Damien's lips. He took a slow step toward her, the tap of his cane rhythmic and menacing. "I care about what belongs to me. And right now, that is you."

Avery's breath caught.

"We are married for two reasons, Kendra," Damien said, his voice dropping into a deep, velvety purr as he stopped just inches from her. The intoxicating scent of cedarwood and rain rolled off him. "First, to solidify the merger of our family assets. Second... because a man in my condition requires a very specific kind of care. A devoted, hands-on wife to look after his needs."

He tilted his head, his dark lenses boring into her. "Tell me... you are fully aware that I am blind, correct? You know what you signed up for?"

"I know," Avery whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. If only you knew I'm not the girl who signed that contract, she thought, swallow hard. "I can help you. I... I don't mind taking care of you."

"Good." Damien’s hand reached out, his long fingers brushing against her bare shoulder, sending a sudden, searing jolt of heat straight down her spine. "Because a good wife shouldn't keep secrets from her husband. And she certainly shouldn't remain tense in her own home."

His hand slid down her arm, his touch deceptively gentle but possessively firm. "Let me show you to our bedroom. You need to unwind."

Our bedroom. Singular.

Avery’s mind raced as he led her up the grand winding staircase. He walked with a perfect, practiced ease that made her wonder how he memorized the layout so flawlessly.

When he pushed open the heavy double doors at the end of the hall, Avery gasped. The master suite was massive, dominated by a king-sized bed draped in charcoal silk sheets. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting long, dancing shadows across the room.

"You must be exhausted after wearing that heavy, ridiculous gown all day," Damien said, releasing her hand. He casually walked over to a leather armchair near the fire, setting his cane aside. He sat down, crossing his long legs, and leaned his head back. "Go ahead. Unwind. Take the dress off."

Avery froze. "What?"

"I might be blind, my sweet wife, but I can hear how shallow your breathing is," Damien murmured, his lips curving into a dangerous, lazy smile. "You're suffocating in that silk. Take it off. Change into something comfortable. Pretend I’m not even here."

Avery stared at him. Her eyes darted from his relaxed posture to the pitch-black sunglasses covering his eyes.

He’s blind, she reminded herself, her face flushing a deep, burning crimson. He can't see a thing. To him, the room is completely dark.

Reassuring herself, she slowly reached behind her back. The zipper of the heavy wedding gown was stuck. She struggled with it for a moment, her knuckles brushing against her spine, her breath hitching in frustration.

"Need help?" Damien asked, his voice suddenly sounding tighter, deeper.

"No! No, I've got it," Avery said quickly. With a firm tug, the zipper finally gave way.

The heavy silk of the gown parted. Avery let out a soft sigh of relief as the dress slid down her hips, pooling around her ankles on the plush rug.

She stood there in nothing but her delicate, white lace underwear. The cool air of the room hit her bare skin, making her shiver slightly.

Across the room, behind his dark glasses, Damien’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek.

His heart thudded violently against his ribs.

He had expected her to go to the bathroom to change. He hadn't expected her to have the sheer, innocent audacity to strip right in front of him.

And God, she was beautiful.

In the warm, flickering glow of the firelight, her skin looked like pure cream. The delicate lace of her underwear hugged curves that were soft, elegant, and entirely mesmerizing. And there, right on her collarbone, was that tiny, teasing birthmark, practically begging for his touch.

Damien’s throat went completely dry. He forced his hands to remain perfectly still on the armrests, his fingers digging into the leather to keep from reaching out and dragging her into his lap.

She really thinks I can't see her, he thought, a dark, primal possessiveness blooming deep in his chest. She has no idea how dangerous this game is.

Avery, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him, stepped out of the pooled dress. She reached for a silk robe draped over the edge of the bed, slowly slipping her arms into the sleeves.

"Are you still there, Damien?" she asked softly, tying the silk belt around her waist.

Damien took a slow, deliberate breath to steady his voice, though his eyes never left the sight of her parted lips.

"I'm right here, my sweet wife," he murmured, his voice thick with a sudden, heavy heat. "And I'm not going anywhere."