Damian was already seated in the dining hall when Ava walked in, trailing behind Charles, who had come to get her.
She stopped in her tracks when she saw him sitting there, his expression calm and unreadable.
She had been expecting to eat alone again, like she had done for the past few days.
Damian turned slightly, acknowledging her presence before his eyes returned to the plate in front of him.
“Are you going to sit down?” he asked, his tone cool and steady when she remained by the door.
Ava hesitated.
She would have preferred to skip dinner altogether; she wasn’t sure she could eat much sitting across from him.
But why should she avoid him?
She didn’t want him to think she was intimidated.
Swallowing hard, she straightened her shoulders and walked into the room.
Instead of sitting near him, she took the farthest seat at the long dining table.
Her choice made him almost scoff.
“I don’t bite, you know,” he said without looking up.
She ignored his comment and murmured a quiet, “Thank you,” to Charles after he placed a plate in front of her.
Ava’s mind, however, wasn’t on the food, it was on the man sitting across from her.
On her way downstairs, she had passed by the west wing again.
That forbidden part of the house always made her heart race with curiosity.
Who exactly was Damian Cross?
Was he really the man people gossiped about, the cold, dangerous businessman with a dark past or was there more to him?
And those paintings.
Had he been the one who painted them?
She wanted to ask, but she knew how he’d react.
He would shut her down, maybe even lash out like he did that day in that room.
It was none of her business, she reminded herself.
Still, the curiosity burned stronger each time she passed the west wing’s locked doors.
She couldn’t help wondering what was behind them.
Were there more paintings hidden inside?
Maybe secrets he didn’t want anyone to see?
She had practiced unlocking doors before mostly during her search for Lily but she wasn’t exactly an expert.
To open them all, she’d need at least an hour alone.
Maybe she’d get that chance soon.
Ava was so lost in thought she didn’t notice Damian watching her.
His brow was slightly raised, his eyes sharp and assessing, as if studying something far more interesting than his meal.
She had a fork and knife in hand but had barely touched her food.
What was she thinking about now, he wondered.
Was it Scott?
Damian’s jaw tightened slightly at the thought.
She didn’t even know that her sister had worked for Scott, how close had they really been?
Or had Lily lied to her ?
He had his own questions, but asking them now would only make things worse.
She already saw him as a suspect.
The last thing he needed was to feed her suspicions.
So instead of speaking, he set his cutlery down and continued to stare at her in silence.
From the corner of the room, Charles watched them quietly.
He had served the Cross family for decades and knew Damian better than anyone.
Ava’s faraway expression and Damian’s subtle, amused smile told him everything he needed to know.
Whatever their arrangement was, it wasn’t love.
Still, there was something unspoken between them.
Charles had seen that look on Damian’s face before, the one he wore when something or someone had caught his attention, even if he would never admit it aloud.
He only hoped Damian knew what he was doing.
With the wedding happening so soon, people were already whispering.
The Cross family was known for keeping secrets, and not everyone would be pleased about this union.
Ava sighed softly and finally glanced up to see if Damian still looked so unreadable.
But the moment her eyes met his, she froze.
The faint smile tugging at his lips made her pulse quicken.
She quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her plate, but she could still feel his gaze on her.
“Is something the matter?” he asked in a low, smooth voice.
His frown was gone, replaced by that faint smile that made her even more uneasy.
“Not that I know of,” she replied, forcing herself to hold his gaze for a few seconds before looking down again.
It was hard to meet his eyes.
They were too intense, too steady, as if they could see through every thought she tried to hide.
Damian’s eyes drifted from her face down to her untouched plate.
“Then why aren’t you eating?”
Ava looked down and realized she had barely taken a bite.
She sighed quietly and muttered under her breath, “Maybe because of someone.”
He heard it.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed cold.
“You’d better get used to this,” he said calmly.
“This is going to be your life from now on. One of many dinners we’ll have together.”
His tone made her stomach twist.
The way he said it, it was like a warning, like a reminder that she was trapped in this arrangement and there was no escape.
Damian stood, and for a moment, Ava thought he was leaving.
But instead, he walked around the table, his footsteps quiet but firm.
She tensed as he stopped beside her.
His hand slipped into his pocket, and he leaned down close enough that she could feel his breath brush her ear.
“You should’ve thought about it long and hard before you agreed to this,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.
Then he straightened, turned, and left the dining hall without another glance.
Ava sat frozen in her seat, her face pale, her heart thudding wildly in her chest.
For a few seconds, she just stared at the doorway where he had disappeared.
Then she stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the marble floor.
“Damian!”
Her voice echoed through the hall.
He stopped in the corridor and turned, his expression unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes when he saw her face that was filled with fear and desperation, maybe both.
“I just want my sister back,” she said, her voice trembling.
“I don’t care what you do to me, but please… I just want her back.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.