Page 121 of The Contract

And maybe that’s the real difference between us.

I spent my whole life clawing for control, for power, for something to hold onto.

She learned how to exist in the spaces between.

So I let her have this one.

Let her sit in the stillness.

Let her breathe.

And for the first time in a long fucking time, I do the same.

My breath catches the moment I lift my gaze to the grand entrance before me. The Met. New York’s infamous opera house, its towering columns and gilded lights standing proudly against the night sky.

I’ve seen it before, of course—walked past it, admired it from afar, even lingered outside once or twice, watching as elegant patrons filed inside.

But I’ve never stepped through its doors. Never had the luxury of sitting beneath its chandeliers, listening to voices so powerful they could shake the walls.

And now, not only am I here, but I have it all to myself.

Or rather, we do.

I glance at Damien, who stands beside me, calm and composed, as if buying out the Met for an evening is as easy as making dinner reservations.

He barely blinks as the doorman opens the grand entrance for us, as if this isn’t a big deal. As if this isn’t?—

“Damien,” I murmur, still taking in the sight before me. “You did not rent out the Met for the night.”

His lips twitch, but he keeps his expression neutral. “I may have.”

I turn fully toward him now, eyes narrowing. “You may have?”

He tilts his head slightly, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I already had this arranged. It was supposed to be for… something else.”

I arch a brow, waiting.

He hesitates, then clears his throat, adding, “I just forgot to cancel it.”

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. “Right. Like you could ever forget you rented out one of the world’s most famous opera houses.”

He shrugs, his hand resting at the small of my back as he guides me inside. “What can I say? My calendar is very full.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the warmth spreading through me, the way my pulse flutters as we step into the lavish, gold-lined lobby. A stunning red carpet stretches up the grand staircase, leading to opulent balconies overlooking the main floor.

The theater is empty, silent, yet full of a hushed magic. Like it’s waiting for us.

For me.

I swallow, my fingers tightening around the folds of my gown. I’ve never felt this way before—dressed in something breathtaking, wearing diamonds I have no business owning, on the arm of one of the city’s most powerful men, walking into a place I’ve only dreamed of.

It’s not real.

I know that.

It’s a fantasy, a life I only get to indulge in for a few more days. But standing here, under the soft glow of chandeliers, surrounded by velvet and gold, with Damien’s touch warm against my back?—

It feels real.

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