Chapter 65
Chapter 65
IMANI’s pov
The moment I stepped into the ballroom, the atmosphere shifted.
It always did.
Back then, the Hamiltons’ anniversary was one of those events New York’s elite treated like a second coming of a divine being.
Some things never change.
Everyone in class was invited, but me. Instead, I was locked in the janitor’s closet that evening. Knocking till my hands turned red. Screaming till my throat was sore.
Now I was extended an invitation.
Some things do change.
Murmurs rose like a tide the instant I walked in.
Some people whispered my name; others whispered rumors they hoped were true. I didn’t bother deciphering which was which.
The attention, whether fond or bitter, didn’t matter.
I carried myself, chin high, regardless.
A waiter passed by offering champagne, and I took one glass, not to drink, but to hold, something to anchor my hand so it wouldn’t curl into a fist every time someone’s eyes lingered too long.
I scanned the room automatically. Not for anyone in particular, yet I knew exactly who I was checking for.
Her.
And maybe him.
But the crowd shifted, blocking my view.
A voice spoke to me from my left, “Miss Rodriguez? I’ve been hoping to catch a moment with you–”
I turned only halfway, already preparing a polite lie to escape the conversation.
The man was shorter, distinguished-looking, and visibly eager to do more than just speak to me.
That was always the giveaway…the hunger in their eyes.
Before I could reply, another voice slid smoothly into the space between us.
“She’s with me.” His voice sounded smoother every time I heard it.
The man’s expression fell instantly, and he mumbled something before retreating. I almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
Damien stepped fully into view, his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in that effortless, almost arrogant way only he could manage.
His suit, tailored to perfection, was black, no surprise there. I had never seen him in bright colors.
He didn’t smile.
He barely smiled at anyone.
“You rescued me,” I said dryly.
“Did I?” His lips twitched, “Looked like I rescued him.”
I let out a short breath, almost a laugh, “You exaggerate.”
“I don’t.” He tilted his head, studying me the way he always did, like I was a puzzle with too many missing pieces, “You look… tense.”
“That obvious?”
“Only to someone who actually pays attention.”
I shouldn’t have smiled. I really shouldn’t have.
But the smallest curve tugged at my lips before I could stop it.
And of course, that was exactly the moment Cody saw us.
I felt his stare before I found him–like a heat on the side of my face.
When I turned slightly, I caught the unmistakable flash of hazel eyes narrowed in confusion… and something sharper.
Jealousy?
I almost laughed. That wouldn’t make sense.
We hated each other, that much was clear.
Seeing me with Damien had unsettled him enough for it to slip.
Then what was it?
Then I saw her.
She wore silver, her face lightly touched with nude makeup. She gave off the image of an angel incapable of harming.
That was laughable.
Audrey stood beside him, her arm looped through his as if claiming territory. As if letting me know that Cody has always and will always belong to her.
A painful memory flashed through my mind.
I turned back to Damien quickly, pushing the feeling down where it belonged.
“Tell me,” I said casually, “how well do you know the Hamiltons?”
He took a moment before answering. “They’re… family friends.”
“And Cody?” I pressed lightly, aware that I had to tread carefully, “Are you guys still close?”
He raised a brow, “I never mentioned that we were.”
How could I make such a mistake?
I caught myself quickly, “I just assumed he was the old friend you spoke of.”
He eyed me carefully, in a way that almost made me shift, “He is.”
“I see.” I answered, taking a glance at Cody. He was whispering something to Audrey.
What was he–
“You’re competitors.” He called my attention back to him.
“What?”
He glanced at Cody and back to me, “You and Cody.”
I shrugged, “I don’t see him as competition.”
“Is that so.” The doubt was clear in his tone.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“No.” His eyes held mine steady.
“And why is that?” I didn’t look away this time.
“Because you’re too strategic to ask about him out of plain curiosity.” He responded.
His eyes bore into mine, doing that thing again, searching like he lost something in me.
I lost the battle and looked away, my heart becoming too loud.
And I wish I didn’t. Because I met his eyes again.
And in one swift movement, he grabbed Audrey’s face and kissed her.
Not a polite kiss.
Not a social kiss.
It was claiming. One meant to be seen.
A murmur rippled across the ballroom–people whispering, gasping, delighted by the show they put on.
I felt something sour rise in my throat.
Disgust. Annoyance.
A sharp, twisting ache I had no business feeling.
I looked away immediately, forcing my expression back to neutral.
Damien watched me. He watched the exact moment something in me shifted.
His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t comment.
Before he could, my phone buzzed. It was a call from my contact in Europe.
“Excuse me,” I said, already moving toward the hallway.
Once the ballroom doors closed behind me, the muffled noise of the crowd faded and was replaced by the quiet hum of the corridor.
I answered the call, “What did you find?”
His voice was crisp, rich with the Irish accent, “The number that contacted you; it wasn’t easy, but I traced it.”
“And?”
“It came from someone close to you. Very close.”
A chill ran down my spine, “How close are we talking?”
“I tapped into your device long enough to run a proximity sweep. Whoever sent that message was near you recently.”
Recently.
I opened my mouth to ask for more when the air behind me shifted.
I felt a presence.
I turned and my heart pounded as I saw him standing there. Damien.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The question hit me before I could stop it.
Was it him?
Was he the one who threatened me?
“Who was that?” he asked softly.
And suddenly I didn’t know whether to lie, or whether the truth would be the more dangerous choice.