Chapter 14: The Midnight Armor

[ SAMANTHA'S POV ]

The silk was beautiful.

Even in the dim, shadowed light of the limousine, the deep midnight-blue fabric caught the streetlights outside, shifting like dark water. It was easily the most expensive thing I had ever touched. Chloe’s team had done their job perfectly. The cut of the dress was flawless, wrapping tightly around my waist and flowing down to the floor in smooth, elegant lines that made me look taller and far more graceful than I felt.

My hair was styled perfectly, with not a single strand out of place. Under the heavy makeup, my skin looked like smooth, spotless porcelain. When I tilted my chin to look in the dark window glass, I couldn't see even a hint of the purple bruise on my jaw. The makeup artist had covered every mark, blending them away until my face looked flawless, radiant, and presentable.

I looked completely untouched. I looked beautiful. I looked like a pampered, beloved wife.

But beneath the heavy, stunning fabric, my heart was hammering so hard it hurt. My ribs felt tight, like a cage closing in. The dress was a masterpiece, flowing around me with an effortless elegance that made me look incredibly graceful, but it was just a beautiful disguise. I was wearing a fortune, yet I felt completely hollow inside, my lips painted with a deep red lipstick that felt sticky and thick on my mouth.

I looked down at my hands. They were resting on my lap, my fingers locked together. I was squeezing them so hard that my knuckles were turning white.

"You are going to ruin the silk."

The deep, quiet voice came from the dark corner of the seat.

I didn't turn my head. I didn't want to look at him. But I could feel his presence like a heavy weight in the small space. David was sitting just inches away, his large body taking up most of the room in the back of the car. He was dressed in a flawless black tuxedo. He looked perfect, clean, and completely in control of himself and everything around him.

"I'm not doing anything," I whispered. My throat felt dry, like sand.

"You are shaking," David said.

I felt him shift. The leather of the seat creaked softly as he leaned closer to me. The scent of his expensive cologne sandalwood and cold rain filled the small, enclosed space. It made my stomach twist into painful knots. Just hours ago, I was locked in his dark, cold storage room, wondering if anyone would ever find me. Now, I was sitting next to him in a luxury car, wearing a designer dress that probably cost more than a small house.

"The cameras will see the shake, Samantha," he said, his voice smooth and steady, without a single trace of doubt. "The board members will see it. Relax your hands."

"How?" I finally turned my head to look at him.

The interior of the limo was dim, but the streetlights outside flashed across his face as we drove. His dark eyes were fixed on me, tracking the nervous movement of my lips. He looked completely calm, as if we were just going out for a normal, quiet dinner instead of a massive public event.

"Just breathe," he said.

"You threatened to ruin Sophia's life," I said, my voice rising just a fraction. I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to look away. "You told me you would fire her and blacklist her so she could never work again if I didn't smile for your investors. And now you expect me to be relaxed?"

David's jaw clenched. For a second, a tiny muscle jumped in his cheek. But his expression didn't soften.

"I expect you to play your part," he said coldly. "If you do, Sophia keeps her job. It is that simple. You smile, you hold my hand, and you make them believe we are happy. You do that for three hours, and then we come back."

"And then what?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Do I go back to the storage room?"

David didn't answer. He just looked at me, his eyes dark and completely unreadable. The silence between us grew heavy, filled only with the quiet hum of the car's engine and the soft vibration of the tires on the asphalt.

I turned my back on him, looking out the window again. The city streets were getting busier. We were entering the wealthy district, where the buildings were taller and the lights were brighter. Huge, glowing glass skyscrapers lined the roads, and I could see the massive, expensive banners for the charity gala hanging from the streetlamps.

Kingsley Corporation Annual Gala.

My chest felt so tight I could barely get air into my lungs. I was going to walk into a grand ballroom filled with hundreds of people. Reporters, photographers, investors, and billionaires. They would all be looking at me. They would be searching my face, my eyes, and my movements for any sign of the ugly rumors that had been spreading.

They say he forced her.

They say she is a hostage.

I closed my eyes tightly. Just think of Sophia, I told myself. Sophia, who brought me soup when she wasn't supposed to. Sophia, who has a family to feed and depend on her. I had to protect her. I had to be strong, even if it meant pretending to love the man who had treated me like a prisoner.

Suddenly, the limousine slowed down.

The smooth, fast ride became a slow crawl. I opened my eyes and looked out the front windshield.

The street outside the grand hotel was blocked off by security. Red velvet ropes lined the pavement, holding back a massive crowd of people who were waving and shouting. Dozens of security guards in black suits stood in a tight line, trying to keep the path clear for the arriving cars.

And then there were the lights.

They were blinding. White flashes from professional cameras went off continuously, reflecting off the shiny paint of the luxury cars ahead of us. Television cameras on tall metal poles pointed toward the entrance, capturing every single moment.

"We are here," David said.

His voice didn't have a single trace of fear or hesitation. He reached inside his tuxedo jacket, adjusted his cuffs, and cleared his throat.

My hands started to shake violently now. I couldn't stop them, no matter how hard I tried. The panic was a physical weight, pressing down on my shoulders, making me want to curl up on the floor of the car and hide from the entire world.

"Samantha."

David was looking at me again. He didn't look angry now. He just looked intensely focused, like a soldier before a battle. He reached across the seat.

His hand was huge. His fingers were warm as they slid over mine. He didn't grab me roughly. He just wrapped his hand around my trembling fingers, squeezing them firmly. The heat of his skin was a shock against my freezing hands, forcing me to anchor myself to the present moment.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

I looked at him.

"The moment the door opens, the game is on," he said, his dark eyes locked onto mine. "Do not look at the cameras. Look at me. If you feel like you are going to fall, lean into me. I will hold you up."

"Because of the stock price," I whispered, my voice bitter.

"Because of the stock price," he agreed, his face hard and determined. "Now, put a smile on your face."

The limousine came to a final stop.

Outside, a man in a white uniform stepped up to our door. He reached out and grabbed the polished handle.

David didn't let go of my hand. He kept his fingers locked tightly with mine, his grip solid, warm, and completely unyielding.

The door swung open.