Celine slammed her clutch down on the marble counter of her penthouse suite, fury radiating from every inch of her.
"She humiliated me in front of half the city's elite," she hissed, tearing off her earrings. "That lowlife—who even is she?"
Her assistant, Mari, flinched but kept her voice steady. "We've pulled some files. Zara Blackwood. Former girlfriend of a tech startup CEO. Middle-class background. Family filed for bankruptcy three years ago."
Celine's lips curled. "Perfect. A nobody."
"She's currently living in Damien Blackwood's penthouse under his personal protection," Mari added carefully.
Celine's eyes narrowed. "Protection? Or something else?"
She turned and stared out at the skyline, her thoughts churning. She hadn't spent years clawing her way into Damien's world only to be cast aside for some stray.
She needed to remind him who the real threat was.
And this time, she wouldn't play nice.
***
Zara sat at the dining table, flipping through a file Damien had left behind. She wasn't sure why she was curious—maybe to feel more in control of the world she'd been thrown into.
She didn't hear Damien approach until he placed a cup of tea in front of her.
She looked up, surprised. "Didn't peg you for a tea guy."
"I'm not," he replied, sitting opposite her. "But I noticed you drink it when you're anxious."
Zara blinked. "You notice that?"
"I notice a lot about you," he said softly.
The air between them shifted again.
She sipped the tea, letting the warmth soothe her nerves. "Celine won't stop, will she?"
"No," Damien admitted. "She's used to getting her way. And when she doesn't, she burns everything down."
"So she's dangerous."
"She's calculated," he said. "But we're smarter."
Zara smiled faintly. "We?"
Damien leaned back. "You're in this now. Whether you like it or not."
She gave a small laugh. "Thanks for the warning."
***
The next day, Zara stepped into a boutique downtown, sent by Damien's grandmother to pick out dresses for an upcoming business gala.
She hadn't expected the staff to be warm, but the coldness was palpable.
"Do you have an appointment?" the woman at the desk asked, looking her up and down.
"Yes. Under Zara Blackwood. Sent by Mrs. Elenora Blackwood."
The woman's eyes flickered before forcing a smile. "Right. This way."
Zara followed, unease crawling up her spine.
Halfway through the fitting, the door to the room burst open.
Celine.
Zara stood still as the other woman sauntered in, oozing venom wrapped in silk.
"Well, if it isn't our new darling," she sneered.
Zara crossed her arms. "Do you always crash appointments or is this a special occasion?"
Celine smirked. "I just came to remind you. Damien may protect you now, but that won't last."
Zara stepped closer. "Is that a threat?"
"No," Celine whispered, brushing past her. "It's a promise."
She turned at the door. "Enjoy the borrowed glamour, sweetheart. It disappears fast when the truth hits."
***
Later that night, Zara stood on the balcony, city lights twinkling below. Damien joined her, two glasses in hand.
"She confronted you?" he asked without preamble.