Chapter 7 THE GALA BEGINS

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 here!"

"Is this your girlfriend?"

Damian smiled easily but didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "You're doing great. Just a few more steps."

They made it through the photo gauntlet into the hotel's grand ballroom. Claire had seen pictures of fancy events, but nothing prepared her for this: crystal chandeliers the size of cars, tables draped in white silk, flowers everywhere, an orchestra playing softly on a raised stage.

"Breathe," Damian murmured.

She realized she'd been holding her breath. "Right. Breathing. That's important."

A waiter appeared with champagne. Damian took two glasses, handing her one. "Sip it slowly. It's a long night."

"Damian!" A voice cut through the crowd - male, hearty. A man in his sixties approached, hand extended. "Good to see you, son! And who's this lovely young lady?"

"Senator Williams, this is Claire Blake. Claire, Senator Williams sits on the hospital board."

Claire shook his hand, channeling Patricia's training. "It's wonderful to meet you, Senator. Damian told me about the hospital's important work."

He hadn't told her anything, but she'd researched during prep week.

The Senator beamed. "Has he now? Well, isn't that something. Damian never brings dates to these things. You must be special."

"She is," Damian said, and the warmth in his voice sounded so real that Claire almost believed it.

They moved through the crowd, Damian introducing her to donors, board members, business associates. Each time, he kept his hand on the small of her back or held her hand - small touches that looked casual but felt significant.

Claire found herself relaxing. These people were just people, after all. They wanted to talk about their kids, vacations, and their latest projects. She could do that.

"You're a natural," Damian murmured during a lull.

"I'm faking it."

"Still counts."

Then the crowd shifted, and Claire saw her.

Caroline.

She was exactly what Claire had imagined - tall, blonde, willowy, wearing a red dress that probably cost more than a car. But it was her face that struck Claire: beautiful, yes, but cold. Calculating.

And she was staring right at them.

"She's here," Claire whispered.

"I see her." Damian's hand tightened on her waist. "Remember what we discussed. You're confident. You're happy. You're with me because you want to be."

Caroline was moving toward them, cutting through the crowd like a shark.

"Damian," she said when she reached them, voice honey-sweet. "How wonderful to see you."

"Caroline." His tone was polite but cool.

"And you've brought a friend." Caroline's eyes swept over Claire, assessing, dismissing. "How unexpected."

Claire felt every insecurity rise up at once. But then she remembered what Damian said: You're real. That's what matters.

She extended her hand. "Claire Blake. It's nice to meet you."

Caroline's handshake was limp, perfunctory. "Charming. Tell me, how did you two meet?"

"Through a rather unfortunate coffee incident," Damian said smoothly. "Claire quite literally ran into me. Best accident of my life."

The way he said it -  warm, genuine, with a smile reaching his eyes - made Claire's heart skip. He was good at this. Too good.

Caroline's smile tightened. "How quaint. And what do you do, Claire?"

This was the test. Caroline was waiting for her to admit she was a waitress, to reveal she didn't belong.

"I'm between projects at the moment," Claire said, channeling confidence she didn't feel. "Exploring new opportunities."

It wasn't technically a lie.

"How vague," Caroline murmured. She turned back to Damian. "Your mother was asking for you. She's at the main table."

"I'll find her later."

"She specifically requested you come now." Caroline's eyes glittered. "Something about family business?"

Damian's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "If you'll excuse us."

He led Claire away, hand gentle but firm on her back. When they were out of earshot, he exhaled roughly.

"I'm sorry about that. Caroline's difficult."

"She hates me."

"She's threatened by you. There's a difference."

"Why would she be threatened by me?"

Damian stopped, turning to face her. The ballroom lights cast shadows across his face, making his blue eyes seem darker, more intense.

"Because she thought she had me figured out. She thought she knew exactly what I wanted. But then you showed up, and you're nothing like what she expected. You're real, Claire. You don't play games. That terrifies her."

"I'm playing a game right now. That's literally what this is."

"No," he said softly. "You're being yourself in an unusual situation. That's different."

Before Claire could respond, a woman's voice called out, "Damian! There you are!"

A woman was approaching - mid-fifties, elegant, with Damian's blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. She wore a silver gown and an expression of delighted surprise.

"Mom," Damian said, and Claire heard tension in his voice.

This was it. The real test.

"Darling!" His mother kissed his cheek, then turned to Claire with undisguised curiosity. "And you must be the mystery woman everyone's buzzing about. I'm Eleanor Cole. Damian's mother."

"Claire Blake, Mrs. Cole. It's lovely to meet you."

Eleanor's eyes were sharp, assessing. "Blake... I don't know any Blakes in our circle."

"Mom," Damian warned.

"I'm just curious, darling. You've never brought anyone to these events." She smiled at Claire, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Tell me, dear, how did you capture my impossible son's attention?"

"I threw coffee on him."

The words were out before Claire could stop them. Eleanor blinked, and Damian went very still.

Then, to Claire's surprise, Eleanor laughed - genuine, delighted.

"Did you really? Oh, that's marvelous! Do you know, I don't think anyone's ever treated Damian like a normal person in his entire adult life." She linked her arm through Claire's. "Come, you must tell me everything. And don't leave out a single detail!"

As Eleanor pulled her away, Claire glanced back at Damian. He was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read - relief, maybe, or something else.

Whatever it was, it made her feel like maybe she wasn't completely out of her depth after all.