Page 111 of My Ruthless Husband

A lone tear manages to leak out of my brimming eye. A muscle jumps at his clenched jaw as his eyes slowly glide over my face. He lets his eyes linger on my probably pale cheeks, glistening eyes and quivering lips.

It’s minute, but I catch the tiniest shake of his head, as if he is telling me not to cry. And for some reason, the vice grip around my heart begins to loosen.

Breaking the silence, my father steps forward, extending his hand to Damian with a polite yet forced smile. “Damian, good of you to join us.”

“You personally invited me.”

Dad’s ears turn red. For the first time in my life, I see my dad faltering. “I thought it’d be a shame if you missed the celebration, even with us competing over the contract. In the end, it’s just business, nothing personal.”

Damian’s expression remains stoic. “Congratulations.”

With a glint of triumph in dad’s eyes, he says, “Thank you. Now, let me introduce you to my business partners and family.”

As the introduction proceeds, Mrs. Thompson steps forward with a charming smile. “That was pretty harsh but I’m a forgiving person. I’m Nadine,” she says, extending her hand toward Damian.

Damian glances at her hand but doesn’t reciprocate the gesture. Instead, he gives her a curt nod. “Damian Montgomery.”

Mrs. Thompson’s face colors but she still attempts to engage him. “I’ve heard so much about your success. It’s impressive.”

No response.

Melissa, apparently having forgotten about Edward, shoots Damian a dazzling smile. “Well, aren’t you the serious type? I bet I could change that.”

Damian’s response is cutting, “I doubt it.”

Edward who was silent all this time narrows his eyes. It seems he doesn’t appreciate Damian’s straightforwardness. It’s a shame he didn’t mind in the least when Mrs. Thompson and her daughter were ripping me to shreds. “Looks like you don’t have a date.” Edward makes a show of glancing around, probably in an attempt to embarrass him.

Damian nods without skipping a beat. “Mind if I steal yours?”

Melissa gasps. Mrs. Thompson grinds her teeth. I remain like a statue whereas my dad glowers but surprisingly stays silent as Damian offers me his hand. “Dance with me, River.”

Wide eyed, I slowly lift my trembling hand. Damian closes his fingers around mine and on a possessive squeeze, he pulls me away from the group, leaving them in stunned silence.

On legs that feel dangerously like jelly, I try not to fall as I walk with him. As though he could sense it, his arm snakes around my waist and steers me onto the dance floor.

Turning me in his arms, he guides us around so that his broad back is to the group, shielding me from their probing eyes.

When he draws me closer, my nose tingles with emotions. “Damian,” I whisper. He cups the back of my head, gently guides it to rest against his chest and starts to move slowly.

With my six-inch stilettos, my head fits beneath his chin. Despite the noticeable difference in our heights, dancing with him feels surprisingly graceful and not awkward at all.

The band plays a soft, romantic song and I close my eyes, following Damian’s lead. If it weren’t for the thoughts racing in my head, I’d be savoring the way he moves.

Damian proves to be a skilled dancer, effortlessly guiding me as we sway to the rhythm. With each second in his arms, the tension begins to fade, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

Then, I suddenly grow still. Nadine and Melissa’s words echo in my ears from earlier. About Dad’s competitor. They chuckledand commended Dad for sending the invitation to his rival so he could show the “loser” his place. How he had specifically arranged this so he would be humiliated.

Damian was the competitor who lost. This was a deliberate move to plan his public embarrassment. But… why? Why would he do this?

Dad might’ve cracked a joke about my art, but beneath that humor, he’s truly the most compassionate person I know. He is known for supporting those in need of guidance. His kindness extends beyond mere words. And I’ve seen him in action myself. He can’t do something so cruel. He is not a bully. Right?

When I begin to tremble, his warm hand moves in a slow caress up and down my back. His cheek rests against my hair. The tenderness leaves me raw and I bite my lip, struggling to keep the tears from spilling over.

He is comforting me when it should be the other way around. I have so many questions. When did he return from London? Why didn’t he tell me that he was invited to my dad’s party? And why didn’t he tell me about this contract? He mostly shared everything with me. Then why didn’t he… just then, like a sudden bolt of lightning, the realization hits me.

Being with you is costing me too much.

That’s what Damian had said a week ago. And on that same day Dad came to my college to invite me for the party.

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