Chapter Ten

A hushed silence falls over the room and gasps ring out.

Damien lets go of Cara's wrist and adjusts the lapel of his suit “We don't cause scandals at public gatherings, Ms Ashford. This is a wedding and you will respect that.”

Cara's eyes glow with fury. “ You didn't say anything when she insulted me, Mr Moretti. She started the scandal.”

Natalie steps forward, the germs on her white dress shimmering under the chandelier light.” You know, the only reason why you are here is because Louis felt it would be right to invite the members of New York's business world else there's no way in hell I'm inviting you to my wedding.”

“But you would invite a tramp to your wedding? Wow! I'm impressed, Cara says, mockery dripping from her voice.

She's creating a scandal at Natalie's wedding and has no remorse about it. Anger washes through me in waves and I'm about to take a step forward and give her a piece of my mind when I feel a hand take hold of mine.

I raise my head and see Damien staring at me.

“Not now, little flame. She wants to see you lose your cool. Don't give her that pleasure,” he mutters. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, calming my nerves.

I open my eyes slowly, forcing myself to hold my ground. Cara’s smirk widens, like she’s already crowned herself victorious. My silence, to her, is a weakness.

But Damien’s grip is steady, grounding. His thumb brushes against my knuckles in the barest of motions, barely there, yet enough to remind me of control. Restraint is power.

Natalie, however, is not so restrained. “Enough, Cara.” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the murmurs. “This is my wedding, not your stage. If you can’t keep your venom to yourself, then I’ll have security escort you out.”

The room collectively exhales, whispers cascading like a wave across the glittering hall.

Cara laughs, brittle and mocking. “Oh, how noble. Defending your little tramp friend. Careful, Natalie, wouldn’t want the tabloids mixing her scandal with you. It’s quite contagious, you know.”

I feel Damien stiffen beside me. His hand tightens on mine before he releases me altogether, stepping forward with a cool, deliberate calm that commands the room. His presence is enough to silence even the whispers.

“Ms. Ashford,” he says, his voice like steel dipped in ice. Dmooth but lethal. “You’ve already crossed the line. This is the last warning you’ll receive. Keep pushing, and I’ll make sure you regret it in ways the tabloids can’t even begin to imagine.”

The weight of his words settles over the hall like a storm cloud. Cara blinks, her composure faltering for a fraction of a second before she forces out a laugh. But the color in her cheeks betrays her.

Louis clears his throat and steps in, his arm sliding protectively around Natalie’s waist. “This night isn’t about old grudges or gossip. It’s about family, friends, and celebrating love. Cara, if you can’t contribute to that, then you should leave. Now.”

Cara’s eyes dart between Louis, Natalie, and Damien. For once, she has no witty retort, no venom to spit. She huffs, flips her hair, and stalks away, heels clicking furiously against the polished floor.

The silence that follows is deafening.

And then, applause. Soft at first, then spreading. The guests clap not just for Louis and Natalie, but for the restoration of order, for the subtle justice they just witnessed.

I stand frozen, my pulse racing. Damien turns back to me, his expression unreadable, though something flickers in his eyes, something dark, protective, almost possessive.

He leans down, his voice meant only for me. “You see, little flame? Sometimes victory isn’t in the strike, but in knowing when to hold back.”

And with that, he brushes past me, leaving me breathless in his wake, wondering whether his warning was about Cara… or about me.

I murmur an excuse to Natalie and slip away, weaving through the guests until I find the powder room. The quiet inside is a balm, the soft golden glow of the sconces soothing after the harsh glitter of the chandeliers. I grip the porcelain sink, forcing my reflection to meet me in the mirror.

Calm down, Leina. Just breathe.

Minutes pass. Maybe longer. I lose track of time in the silence, but the sound of the door opening jolts me.

“Little flame,” Damien’s low voice fills the room, rich and commanding. He closes the door behind him, the faint click of the lock echoing. My heart lurches. “You’ve been gone too long. People are starting to notice.”

I turn to face him, words on the tip of my tongue, but they never make it out. Because he’s already crossing the room with measured strides, his gaze burning into me.

“Why do you keep running?” he asks, stopping just a breath away. His scent, expensive cologne, smoke, something darker, wraps around me, pulling me under.

“I’m not running,” I whisper, though my voice betrays me, trembling.

A dangerous smile curves his lips. “Good. Then don’t start now.”

And before I can think, before I can breathe, Damien lowers his mouth to mine.