Ava stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her.
The pristine silence of Damien's office was pierced only by the ticking of the minimalist wall clock and the sudden thrum of tension that swept through the air like static. Her eyes locked instantly on Selene who was hovering entirely too close to Damien. One of her manicured hand still hovered just above his chest, as if reluctant to retreat.
Damien's brows furrowed in a visible mix of frustration and disbelief, as though caught mid-thought. His hands were clenched at his sides like he was resisting the urge to push Selene away more forcefully.
Ava's gaze flicked from Damien to Selene and back to Damien again. She blinked slowly, gathering herself before she spoke, her voice sounded calm and levelled but unmistakably sharp.
"Am I interrupting something?" She asked after she had recovered from the shock.
There was a pause, a long, weighted beat before the breathless receptionist behind her scrambled to speak.
"I… I told her not to go in, sir, I really did. I said Mr. Blackwood was.."
But they all ignored her.
Selene turned, that ever composed smile playing on her lips, though the corners twitched with something smug. "Your wife is here," she said lightly, looking up at Damien through her lashes as she withdrew her hand in an exaggeratedly slow movement.
The receptionist's jaw practically hit the floor. Wife? The word rang out like a bell in the tension heavy room.
"Hi, Ava, is it?" Selene added sweetly, feigning innocence with a little tilt of her head.
Damien exhaled heavily, irritation etched into his features. "Selene was just about leaving," he said flatly.
Selene's smile faltered but it was only for a moment. The smile was soon back on her lips. "Was I?" she said with mock surprise, her brows arching as though she truly had no idea.
Ava stood stiffly, unwilling to step further into the room. Her back was straight, her expression unreadable. But anyone who looked closely would see that she could sense the tension because of the tightness in her jaw,
"No, it's fine," she said after a moment, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I'll leave. I just came to help Emily deliver your lunch."
She walked forward, her heels quiet against the polished floors, and set food bag down gently on the edge of his desk. Then she turned, already stepping away before he could respond.
But Damien moved quickly. He reached out to gently grab her hand, stopping her mid-step.
"Wait," he said, his voice low, but cohesive. "She was just leaving," he added, his eyes cutting sharply toward Selene.
Selene's lips pressed into a thin line, envy flashing openly now across her face. She snatched her bag from the side chair. She walked towards the exit muttering something venomous under her breath that no one bothered to catch.
And you…" Damien's eyes narrowed at the receptionist.
She swallowed hard as her face immediately went pale. "Sir?"
"Outside. Now."
The woman nodded rapidly and nearly stumbled out the door, hurrying to follow Selene as the glass door sighed shut behind her.
Damien turned back to Ava, his hand still holding hers as if he hadn't realized he hadn't let go.
"It's not what it looked like," he said quietly as she withdraw her hands.
Ava looked at him then, really looked at him. Her expression was calm, eerily so and her eyes were unreadable, like a sheet of glass pulled over a storm.
"Isn't that what people always say," she murmured, "when it's exactly what it looked like?"
"Ava, it's really not…"
"I mean, it is kind of expected from two single people, sort of single people alone in a room and who have it hot for each other." Ava said, dead calm.
He opened his mouth, the words ready on his tongue, but she didn't give him the chance.
"You don't have to explain, Damien. I really don't care if something is going on between you and Selene as long as it doesn't affect me. It's your business. We are married all right, but this marriage, this whole arrangement is just on paper. You don't owe me accountability."
There was no bitterness in her voice, no accusation. If anything, her detachment felt more brutal than rage would have.
"Ava…"
"Emily's son is ill," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "So I came in her place. That's the only reason I'm here. Sorry for showing up here unannounced and ruining... whatever that was." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "See you at home, Damien."
She turned and walked toward the door, her stride composed and her back straight. But as she reached for the handle, she paused.
"Oh," she said, looking over her shoulder, her tone still even, but now touched with frost. "Your receptionist called me a common help, by the way." She feft insulted especially with the way the receptionist had just let Selene stroll in and was too petty to let it go.
She didn't wait for a response. She pulled the door open and walked out without another glance, her heels echoing down the hallway until the elevator swallowed the sound.
Inside the elevator, Ava stared at her reflection in the mirrored wall. Her hands clenched once, then released. Her face betrayed nothing, but her mind was anything but still.
She didn't feel anything. She didn't know what to think so she just pushed it to the back of her mind. This was a contract, terms, agreements and boundaries.
She tilted her head back and exhaled slowly.
This marriage is business and that's all it is and would be.
She said it to herself again and again, until the elevator chimed and opened on the lobby floor.
Back upstairs, Damien stood frozen, one hand still lingering in the air where hers had been. Her words echoed in his ears, not because they were cutting, but because of how empty they were. Hollow even, like she had already detached from him completely.
He should've been relieved. He had told himself from the beginning that boundaries were necessary. Emotional distance was critical.
But the thought of her brushing it all off, of her not giving a damn, he didn't quite like it. Not one bit.
Damien didn't know what to say, it was a contracted marriage alright but for some reason, her not caring didn't sit right with him somehow.
His jaw tightened, and he turned back toward the window, but not before pressing the intercom button on his desk.
"HR," he said curtly when the line picked up. "Effective immediately, replace the receptionist on my floor. I'll sign off on the paperwork later."
He ended the call without waiting for acknowledgement.
Outside, the city carried on, busy and indifferent. But Damien stood still, hands in his pockets, wondering why he suddenly felt like something important had slipped just out of reach.