Chapter 6:Drawn
Anna's laugh faded into the background as Mila watched her walk away, still clutching the secret like it was something delicate and dangerous. Mila stayed behind in the quiet corner, her fingers brushing the edge of the chair as if grounding herself from the whirlwind she'd just stepped into.
A secret. A plan. A promise to help.
But why did it feel like she had just agreed to something far heavier?
"Didn't think you'd agree so easily," a familiar voice murmured behind her.
She didn't need to turn. Damien's voice, low and quiet, had a way of sinking into her bones. When she looked up, he was already there, leaning against the wall like he hadn't just shattered her peace.
"You were listening?" she asked, half amused, half annoyed.
"I wasn't trying to," he said, sipping from his drink, "but you know how this place echoes."
Mila narrowed her eyes. "You shouldn't be lurking in corners like some Bond villain."
He gave a small smirk. "And you shouldn't look so guilty. What are you hiding, Mila?"
She hated that he could read her like that. Hated even more that a part of her wanted him to.
"I'm not hiding anything," she said.
Damien didn't press, but his gaze lingered. Heavy. Knowing. "You shouldn't lie to me. You're terrible at it."
That stung more than it should have.
Mila stepped past him, brushing his arm. "I think you've had enough to drink."
He caught her wrist—lightly, gently, but enough to stop her. "I mean it," he said, eyes locked on hers now."If you're walking into something… just be careful," he said quietly, the weight behind his words unmistakable.
Mila blinked, her breath hitching. This wasn't teasing anymore. It was something raw and urgent beneath the surface—like a warning wrapped in concern.
She swallowed hard, unsure what "something" meant, but feeling the gravity in his voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered.
Damien leaned in, just close enough for her to feel his breath. "Then maybe that's the problem."
She pulled away, pulse racing. The distance between them felt like a lie—too short, too dangerous.
"Go back to the party," she said, turning her face. "I'm not the one you're here for."
He didn't move. "Aren't you?"
Mila's stomach twisted.
She walked away before she could answer that question. Before she did something stupid. Like stay.
But she could feel his eyes on her long after she disappeared into the crowd.
And when she finally reached the far corner of the room alone, she let herself breathe again.
For a heartbeat, Mila stood still, her fingers curled loosely at her sides. Something about the exchange unsettled her—not just what Anna had said, but what she hadn't. The way she'd smiled, too quickly. The way her eyes darted when Mila agreed. And that word—surprise—still buzzed like static in her mind.
She turned back toward the velvet chair and sank into it with a quiet exhale, letting the weight of the evening press down on her. The music no longer thrilled her; it throbbed in her skull, out of sync with the ache behind her eyes. Laughter floated across the room like echoes from a world she wasn't part of tonight.
Her phone remained untouched in her purse. For once, she didn't want to scroll or escape. She just sat there—surrounded by glittering gowns, polished smiles, and people who didn't know that her heart was tearing at the seams.
Anna's words repeated themselves over and over.
Something only someone close to him would know.
But why Mila?
Why her—when Anna had friends, a team, even Damien's own family to ask? Was it just sisterly trust… or something else entirely?
Mila closed her eyes briefly, trying to find stillness, but it was Damien's face that surfaced. The way his voice dipped when he teased her. The look in his eyes when he thought no one else was watching. That damn kiss she couldn't shake no matter how many times she told herself it meant nothing.
And now, Anna had unknowingly pulled her even closer to him.
Was that part of the plan? Or just fate playing games with her?
She drew in a deep breath, then opened her eyes—only to find Damien watching her from across the room. He didn't look away.
Neither did she.
Whatever this was between them—it was quiet and loud at the same time. Wrong, but dangerously right.
Mila wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, suspended in a silent conversation no one else could hear. But she knew one thing: she was running out of time to figure out what to do about it.
Because secrets had a way of unraveling.
And she was sitting right in the center of one.