Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Damian

The invitation to Vanessa Cole’s charity gala arrived the same week as the seating chart chaos, sitting innocently among the stack of mail Mason had left on my desk.

I almost tossed it straight into the trash. Almost.

“You’re not going,” Harper said, reading over my shoulder.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good.”

“We weren’t planning to,” I corrected. “Both of us are invited.”

Harper’s expression shifted, something wary passing behind her eyes. She’d met Vanessa exactly twice since the marriage began, and both times had ended with Vanessa saying something sharp disguised as pleasant conversation.

“Why would she invite me?”

“Because not inviting you would look suspicious,” I said. “Vanessa cares more about appearances than almost anyone I know, including Victoria.”

“That’s saying something.”

“It is.”

Harper sat across from me, arms crossed. “Do we have to go?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“But?”

“But avoiding her forever isn’t realistic. She’s still part of this social circle whether either of us likes it or not.”

Harper sighed, clearly unhappy with the logic but unable to argue against it. “Fine. But I’m wearing something that makes her regret every comment she’s ever made about my dress budget.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The gala, held two weeks later, was exactly the kind of event I’d spent years perfecting the art of tolerating. Crystal chandeliers. Champagne towers. Conversations that meant nothing dressed up as though they meant everything.

Harper walked in beside me wearing deep emerald green, striking against the sea of black and white surrounding us. Every head turned as we entered, and for once, I didn’t mind the attention. Watching people’s expressions shift from curiosity to something closer to admiration felt satisfying in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

“You look beautiful,” I murmured near her ear.

“I know,” she said, though the faint blush crawling up her neck betrayed her confidence. “You clean up decently too.”

“High praise.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

We made our way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with business associates and distant acquaintances, Harper handling herself with a poise that still occasionally surprised me. She’d learned this world quickly, faster than most people born into it.

Vanessa found us near the bar, dressed in crimson, smile sharp enough to cut glass.

“Damian.” She kissed both my cheeks, lingering slightly longer than necessary. “And Harper. What a lovely surprise.”

“Vanessa,” Harper said evenly. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course.” Vanessa’s eyes swept over Harper’s dress, something calculating flickering behind her expression. “I hear congratulations are in order. A second wedding, how sentimental.”

“We thought so too.”

“How very… romantic,” Vanessa said, the word landing with just enough edge to be an insult disguised as a compliment. “Though I suppose after everything, you’ve earned a fresh start. However unconventional the beginning was.”

Harper’s jaw tightened slightly, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “Some beginnings turn out better than expected.”

“How lucky for you.” Vanessa turned her attention to me, voice softening deliberately. “Damian, we should catch up properly sometime. It’s been ages.”

“We caught up plenty, Vanessa.”

Something flickered across her face, brief irritation quickly smoothed over. “Of course. Well, enjoy the evening. Both of you.”

She drifted away, disappearing into the crowd with the same practiced elegance she did everything. Harper exhaled slowly beside me.

“She’s exhausting.”

“She’s predictable,” I corrected. “Which makes her manageable.”

“I don’t like the way she looks at you.”

The admission slipped out before Harper seemed to fully intend it, and something in my chest tightened at the quiet jealousy underneath her words.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” I said.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Harper looked up at me, something vulnerable crossing behind her eyes. “I trust you, Damian. I just don’t trust her.”

“Smart woman.”

The evening continued, filled with obligatory conversations and forced smiles, but Harper stayed close beside me the entire time, her hand occasionally finding mine beneath the pretense of casual affection. Except it didn’t feel like pretense anymore. It hadn’t for a while.

Later, during a slow song drifting from the small orchestra, I pulled Harper onto the dance floor without asking permission first.

“I don’t really dance,” she warned.

“Neither do I. We’ll manage.”

She laughed, settling into my arms despite her protest, her hand resting against my shoulder while we moved slowly to the music. The chandelier lights caught in her eyes, soft and warm, and for a moment, the entire room around us seemed to fade into irrelevant background noise.

“This is nice,” she admitted quietly.

“It is.”

“Even with Vanessa lurking somewhere, probably judging my dance skills.”

“Your dance skills are fine.”

“Liar.”

“Charmingly mediocre, then.”

She laughed again, the sound settling warm in my chest the way it always did. We continued moving slowly, neither of us in any hurry for the song to end.

“Damian?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for tonight. For not letting Vanessa get under your skin. For choosing me, even when it would’ve been easier not to.”

I pulled back slightly, meeting her eyes fully. “There’s no version of tonight, or any night, where I choose anyone else, Harper.”

Her breath caught, the same subtle reaction I’d noticed happening more frequently between us lately. Something unspoken passed between us, heavy and significant, neither of us quite ready to name it aloud yet.

“Slow,” she reminded me softly, though her voice wavered slightly around the word this time.

“Slow,” I agreed, though something in my chest argued otherwise, patience wearing thinner with each passing day.

We finished the dance in comfortable silence, her head resting lightly against my shoulder, and for the rest of the evening, Vanessa’s sharp comments and Victoria’s schemes and Richard’s disapproval all faded into distant, irrelevant noise.

There was only this. Harper in my arms. The quiet certainty that whatever waited beyond patience would be worth every moment we spent getting there.

By the time we left the gala, stars had emerged fully over the city skyline, and Harper’s hand stayed wrapped in mine the entire ride home, neither of us speaking, both of us aware that something between us had shifted just slightly further tonight, moving quietly, closer toward whatever came next.