Chapter 8 The Intruder In His Arms

(Ivy’s POV) The moment I stepped into the grand hall, my body froze. Damien was back. And he wasn’t alone. A woman stood beside him, her delicate fingers tracing slow circles over his chest, her body pressed into his like she belonged there. She was beautiful—sleek dark hair, flawless skin, and the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly where she stood in a man’s life. Her lips curled into a knowing smirk as her gaze flickered toward me, assessing, unbothered. Something sharp and hot settled in my stomach. I wasn’t sure what I had expected from Damien, but this? This was calculated. His arm draped lazily around her waist, his expression unreadable as he leaned in, listening to whatever sweet nothings she whispered in his ear. I kept my posture relaxed, masking the irritation brewing beneath my skin. He wanted me to see this. Fine. Elias, standing at my side, cleared his throat. "I brought her, as requested." Damien’s dark eyes finally shifted toward me. "Ah," he murmured, his voice like silk over steel. "There you are, *Little Lamb*." A slow smirk tugged at my lips, despite the heat rising in my chest. "I wasn’t aware you were expecting company tonight," I said smoothly, my eyes flicking toward the woman still clinging to him. The woman laughed, tilting her head. "Oh, he doesn’t tell you everything, does he?" Damien didn’t move her away. He let her linger, let her fingers trace patterns on his sleeve. I met his gaze, searching for something in those dark depths—some hint of amusement, satisfaction, anything that would tell me *why* he was doing this. Nothing. Just quiet, calculated patience. He was waiting for my reaction. I turned to Elias, ignoring Damien completely. "I assume this is why I was *needed* downstairs?" Elias, to his credit, didn’t even blink. "Damien requested your presence." "How thoughtful," I said dryly. Damien hummed, finally pulling back from the woman’s touch. "You’re part of this house now, Ivy. It’s only fair you get accustomed to… *everything* that comes with it." His voice was casual, but something was lurking beneath it, something darker. He was testing me. I didn’t flinch. "Then I suppose I should introduce myself." I turned to the woman, extending my hand with the kind of poised elegance I had mastered years ago. "Ivy Lancaster." The woman barely glanced at my hand before letting out a soft laugh. "Oh, sweetheart," she purred, stepping closer. "I *know* who you are." Her perfectly manicured fingers reached for my wrist, lightly tracing the bracelet Damien had placed on me earlier that morning. A claim. A mark. I held her gaze, unmoving. She smiled, slow and sweet. "I just don’t know *why* you’re still here." My lips parted, but before I could respond, Damien’s voice cut through the air. "That’s enough, Camilla." Camilla. The name meant nothing to me, but the familiarity between them—*that* was something I couldn’t ignore. Camilla turned, resting a hand on his chest once more, pouting slightly. "You’re no fun tonight," she murmured. "But I’ll forgive you." My fingers curled into my palm. Damien didn’t push her away. He didn’t touch her either. But he allowed her presence. I hated how much that irritated me. I wasn’t jealous—I *refused* to be. I barely knew him. This was nothing more than a forced arrangement, a game of power and control, and yet— No. I wouldn’t let him win this round. I took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us. Camilla’s gaze flickered with curiosity, but I ignored her. My focus remained on Damien as I tilted my head, my voice deliberately soft. "You’re a terrible host, Damien," I murmured. He arched a brow. "Am I?" "You invited me down here for *this*?" I gestured lazily between him and Camilla, keeping my tone light, unbothered. "I expected something a bit more… interesting." Something flickered in his gaze. Camilla laughed, clearly enjoying the tension. "Oh, she’s bold." I finally looked at her. "You have no idea." For a split second, something shifted in her expression. She wasn’t used to being challenged. Damien exhaled a quiet chuckle, running a hand down Camilla’s arm in a slow, deliberate motion. Heat flared beneath my skin. Camilla turned to me, tilting her head. "You don’t belong here, sweetheart." I smiled. "And yet, here I am." Damien watched me carefully as if waiting to see whether I’d break, whether I’d let this bother me. I wouldn’t. Camilla leaned into him once more. "I should go," she sighed, fingers trailing down his chest. "But don’t forget about me, *mon amour*." Damien smirked. "I never forget anything, Camilla." With a final glance in my direction, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door, her heels clicking against the marble. The second the door shut behind her, the air in the room shifted. I turned back to Damien, my arms crossing. "That was subtle." His lips twitched. "You handled it well." I let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, was that a *test*? Should I be honored?" His gaze darkened. "You shouldn’t be *surprised*." I stepped closer, invading his space the way Camilla had. "You think I care about whatever arrangement you have with her?" He didn’t move. Didn’t step back. But his gaze dipped slightly, flickering over my lips before meeting my eyes once more. "You don’t?" I reached out, dragging my fingers down the lapel of his suit. "Not at all." A lie. A carefully placed one. His jaw tightened slightly. I smiled, slow and deliberate. "If you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, Damien, you’re going to have to try harder than *that*." Something dangerous flickered behind his gaze. Before I could pull away, his hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist—not harshly, but firm enough to keep me in place. "You think this is a battle you can win, *Little Lamb*?" A shiver ran down my spine. But I didn’t let it show. Instead, I leaned in just slightly, letting my breath ghost over his jaw. "Who said I was trying to win?" Silence stretched between us, thick, charged. Damien exhaled, a low, quiet chuckle escaping his lips. Then, just as quickly as he had grabbed me, he let go. "Get some sleep," he murmured. "You’ll need it." With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the mansion. I let out a slow breath, my fingers still tingling from where he had held me. He was playing a game. But so was I. And I wasn’t about to lose.