Chapter 7 - The Gala of Knives
A week later, Damian dropped a velvet garment bag onto Harper’s desk.
“What is this?” she asked, eyeing the heavy black fabric.
“A dress. You’re attending the mayoral charity gala with me tonight,” Damian said, not looking up from a file he was signing.
“I am your assistant, not your escort,” Harper retorted, sliding the bag back toward him.
Damian finally looked up, sighing. “Alexei Volkov is hosting the gala. Since our little encounter in this office, he has been asking questions about you. In my world, a perceived weakness is a target. If I hide you, he will assume you are my weakness. If I parade you in front of him, he will assume you are my weapon.”
Harper swallowed hard. The game was lethal, and she was suddenly a central pawn. “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not wearing some scandalous mob-wife outfit.”
“Open it,” he challenged softly.
Harper unzipped the bag. Inside was a breathtaking, floor-length emerald green gown. It was elegant, high-necked, and long-sleeved, designed to command respect rather than illicit lust. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
“I had it tailored to your measurements,” Damian said, his eyes darkening as he watched her trace the silk. “Be ready by eight.”
When Damian arrived at her new, secure apartment building that evening, he was waiting in the lobby. He wore a custom midnight-black tuxedo that made him look like a dark prince. When the elevator doors opened and Harper stepped out, Damian froze.
The emerald silk clung to her curves, her blonde hair swept up into an elegant twist. She looked regal, untouchable, and utterly devastating.
Damian crossed the lobby in three strides. He reached out, his knuckles brushing her cheek with a reverence that shocked her. “You look… exquisite,” he murmured, his voice rough.
May you like
“I look like a target wrapped in expensive silk,” Harper corrected, though her heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
“No one touches you tonight,” Damian vowed, offering her his arm. “You are under the protection of the Blackwood crown. Let them look. Let them fear.”
