LOGINThe next morning, Claire woke with butterflies in her stomach and the memory of Damian's kiss still warm on her lips. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting everything gold, and for a moment she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, processing what had happened.Everything had changed. The contract, the arrangement, the careful boundaries they'd established - all of it felt obsolete now. They'd crossed a line last night in that parking garage, and there was no going back to pretending this was just business.Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Damian: Breakfast? I make terrible pancakes, but I promise they're edible. Also, we should probably talk about last night.Claire smiled, her heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had started doing whenever she thought about him. She typed back: Give me 15 minutes. And I've heard about your pancakes - Sophia warned me.When she emerged from her room fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed in comfortable jeans and
The next evening, Claire stood in front of her closet - well, the closet that Jennifer had filled with clothes Claire would never have bought for herself - paralyzed by indecision.Wear whatever you're comfortable in, Damian had said. But what did that mean for dinner with his family? Jeans felt too casual, like she wasn't taking it seriously. The designer dresses Jennifer had bought for events felt too formal, like she was trying too hard. She finally settled on a soft blue sweater dress that hit just above her knees - elegant but approachable - and paired it with simple flats.When she emerged from her room, Damian was waiting by the elevator, and his eyes lit up in a way that made her heart skip."Perfect," he said simply."I changed five times.""Still perfect." He pressed the elevator button. "You could have worn pajamas and my mother would still adore you.""That's not comforting. That's terrifying."They rode the elevator down to the parking garage where, to Claire's surprise,
Claire woke to sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and, for a confused moment, didn't remember where she was. The silk sheets, the soft mattress, the faint scent of expensive lavender - none of it belonged to her cramped apartment. Then it all came rushing back: the gala, the dancing, Caroline's cold assessment, Vanessa's unexpected kindness.And the way Damian had looked at her when they danced, like she was the only person in the room.Her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. She grabbed it, squinting at the screen through sleep-blurred eyes.Seventeen missed calls. Forty-three text messages. And her social media notifications had exploded into the thousands.With trembling fingers, she opened the first news alert."Mystery Woman Captivates Cole: Who is Claire Blake?"The photo showed her and Damian on the red carpet, his hand protective on her back, both of them smiling. She looked... happy. Natural. Like she belonged there, standing beside one of the most po
Eleanor led Claire to a quieter corner of the ballroom, near tall windows overlooking the city. She still had Claire's arm linked through hers, which felt both motherly and territorial at once."So," Eleanor said, settling into a chair and gesturing for Claire to sit, "coffee on my son. I'd pay money to see his face."Claire laughed nervously. "It wasn't my finest moment. I was mortified.""I'm sure you were. And what did he do?""He was... kind, actually. Didn't yell, didn't threaten to sue. Just gave me his business card and left."Eleanor's expression softened. "That sounds like Damian. Beneath all that CEO armor, he's quite decent." She studied Claire's face. "But I'm curious - when he called you later, why did you agree to see him again? Most women would have been too embarrassed."Claire hesitated. The truth was complicated: desperation, money, a fake contract. But she couldn't say that."He... intrigued me," she said finally. "Most people in his position would've made a scene.
The hotel hosting the gala was a palace of glass and gold. Photographers lined the red carpet, cameras flashing like lightning. Sleek cars delivered women in designer gowns and men in tuxedos, one after another.Claire's stomach lurched."I can't do this," she whispered.Damian squeezed her hand. "Yes, you can. Stay close to me, smile when you feel like it, and remember - you belong here just as much as anyone else.""I really don't.""Then fake it. You're good at that, remember? It's literally what I'm paying you for." His tone was light, teasing, and it helped.The car stopped. The driver opened the door. Flash bulbs exploded.Damian stepped out first, then turned and offered his hand. Claire took a breath, channeled every ounce of courage she had, and let him help her out.The noise was overwhelming - photographers shouting Damian's name, asking him to look left, right, who's your date? But his hand was warm and steady, anchoring her."Mr. Cole! Who's your companion?""Damian! Look
The rest of the week passed in a blur.Claire gave notice at the café. Mrs. Chen hugged her tight, whispered "I knew good things were coming," and promised to save her table whenever she visited.She moved into the guest suite in Damian's penthouse - a space larger than her entire apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows, heated bathroom floors, and a bed so soft she almost cried the first night.Damian was surprisingly scarce. She'd see him mornings sometimes, already in a suit, heading out. He'd nod, ask if she needed anything, then disappear into his world of meetings.Jennifer, however, became a constant presence.Tuesday was shopping. They went to boutiques Claire had only walked past, where staff knew Jennifer by name and brought out dresses costing more than a month's rent. Claire protested, but Jennifer was relentless."You're going to a gala with the city's most prominent people. You need to look the part. Besides, Damian's covering this - it's in the contract."The dress the







