365 Days of Him

The sleek black SUV pulled up to the entrance of the Starlight Hotel, its tires barely making a sound against the polished driveway. The gleaming glass doors parted as the car came to a halt, the hum of the city outside silenced in comparison to the grandeur of the ballroom within.

A pair of polished black leather shoes stepped out first, followed by a sharp, tailored suit that could only belong to one man-Damien Blackwood. He stood tall and imposing, every inch the billionaire mogul the world loved to hate. His black hair was perfectly styled, his jaw sharp, eyes cold as steel, but all of it combined into a persona that the public adored. He was feared, respected, and undeniably powerful-his empire built on ruthless decisions and the demons of his past.

His gaze never strayed from the path ahead as the door to the SUV clicked open again.

A woman emerged. Elara Grey. Her heels clicked softly on the pavement as she stepped out, the weight of her father's debts heavier than any designer dress she wore. She adjusted the hem of her elegant gown, forcing a smile on her lips, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her posture was stiff, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. The ring on her finger, a stark reminder of her forced marriage to the man beside her, seemed to weigh down on her more than the diamond could ever suggest.

The air was thick with tension as Damien led her toward the entrance, his hand resting casually on the small of her back. The paparazzi outside the hotel surged forward, their flashes blinding. They were the perfect picture-wealth, power, and perfection embodied in the two of them. But inside, their union was nothing more than a contract. She was a means to an end. A year of his life to save her family.

Inside the ballroom, the music was loud, the guests luxurious in their gowns and tuxedos, each more polished than the last. Damien smiled, his presence dominating the room like it always did. He turned to Elara, his expression softening for a fraction of a second, just enough for her to notice.

"Don't worry about the lights," he said, his voice low and commanding, "I prefer you remain invisible tonight."

Elara's smile faltered, but she nodded, the weight of the words settling over her like a cloak. Invisible. Just like he wanted.

As they walked deeper into the room, the whispers of the guests followed. Elara kept her head down, trying to ignore the stares that seemed to burn into her skin. This was their life now-pretending. Pretending to be in love. Pretending to be happy. Pretending this marriage was anything more than a well-crafted deal.

But in the quiet, she wondered-just how long would she be able to hold onto her heart before it cracked under the pressure?

Damien led her further into the ballroom, where the glittering chandeliers cast a warm glow over the guests mingling in high society. She could feel the eyes of the crowd on them, the collective curiosity sharp, like vultures waiting for their next meal.

The sounds of clinking glasses and polite laughter faded into the background as she struggled to keep her composure. Every step she took felt calculated, her movements deliberate, as if she were trying to erase the deep ache gnawing at her chest. She wasn't just a wife in name; she was a pawn in Damien Blackwood's game.

He slid a hand into his pocket, exuding confidence, his gaze scanning the room for familiar faces. With every glance, people stepped aside, offering respect and admiration. He was untouchable-impervious to the opinions of others. It was hard to imagine him as anything less than the powerful, ruthless man he was today.

Elara stole a glance at him. He looked like he was in his element, at ease among the people who made up his world. His jawline was sharp, his posture impeccable, and his eyes, though cold, seemed to hold secrets she would never be allowed to know.

"Damien..." she started, her voice small against the noise of the crowd. "How long do we have to keep this up?"

He turned to her, an eyebrow raised, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You think I'm going to let them see through our little charade? We're a perfect match, remember?" His voice was low and clipped, his gaze piercing through her as if assessing her every move.

"I know." Her hands tightened at her sides, though she kept her expression neutral. "But sometimes, it feels like I'm suffocating."

Damien's smirk deepened as he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with a cold amusement. "You agreed to this, Elara... A year with me, and your family lives." His voice was low, deliberate, like a predator savoring its prey. "It's only been a month, and you're already suffocating. Imagine what the next eleven will feel like."

His words hung in the air, like an icy mist that chilled her from the inside out. Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd with an air of authority that made people part like waves.

Elara stood there, feeling the weight of his words pressing against her chest. She forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to regain her composure.

She picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, the bubbles popping noisily against the crystal. She didn't care about the drink, but it gave her something to hold onto-something that made her feel a little less exposed.

Damien was already deep in conversation with a few other influential guests, his voice cutting through the chatter with ease. She couldn't help but watch him. He moved through the crowd like a man who owned it, and in some ways, he did. She was just another piece of his chessboard-a piece he had to use to settle some old score.

Her father's old business dealings had somehow led to this twisted arrangement. It was a debt her family couldn't pay, not with money, not with anything but her. Her father had been reckless, and now she was the one who had to clean up the mess. Her marriage to Damien Blackwood wasn't born from love-it was born from revenge.

Her eyes locked on Damien as he smiled and laughed with the others, the same effortless charm that had gotten him everything he ever wanted. But behind those dark eyes, she could sense the bitterness, the hatred he carried. This was more than a business deal-it was a statement. Her father had wronged him in ways she didn't fully understand, and now Damien had her as the price of his revenge.

But that didn't make it any easier to bear.

She knew what he thought of her. He saw her as weak, as a means to an end, a tool in his fight against her father. He didn't care about her-he never had. And as much as she hated him for it, a small part of her couldn't help but feel the sting of that truth.

"Elara."

She turned to see one of the other guests, a woman who worked for Damien, walking toward her with a polite smile. "You look absolutely stunning tonight," the woman said, her eyes glancing down at Elara's dress with approval.

"Thank you," Elara replied, her voice flat. She could see the curiosity in the woman's gaze, the way she was trying to get a read on her. The whispers about her forced marriage were no doubt circulating, and Elara hated that she was becoming the subject of gossip.

The woman took a step closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is it true? Are you really married to him?"

Elara stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. She nodded, though her face remained expressionless. "Yes, I am."

The woman's smile faded slightly. "I just... I don't understand why you're here, then. I mean, Damien Blackwood doesn't marry for love. I can only imagine what you had to do to get into his world." Her voice was soft, but the implication was clear. Elara had sold herself, had sacrificed her dignity for the sake of her family's survival. And the worst part? The woman was right.

Before Elara could respond, the woman quickly excused herself and walked away, leaving her to her thoughts.

She stared at the champagne in her hand, the bubbles rising to the surface, dissipating as quickly as her hope. She didn't care about the rumors, about the whispers. The truth was, no matter how much she tried to fool herself, she wasn't free. She was stuck in this marriage, stuck in this game, and there was no easy way out.

And Damien-Damien didn't care. To him, she was a casualty of a war that had nothing to do with her. He was using her to settle a score, and once the year was over, he would toss her aside like everything else in his life.

She knew that. She had to keep reminding herself of that. Because the moment she allowed herself to hope, to feel something for the man who had made her his wife, was the moment she would lose everything.

With a deep breath, Elara straightened her back, lifting her chin. She wasn't going to let Damien see the effect he had on her. He had won, for now. But this-this wasn't over.