Isabella's POV

Cole Smith was of course exactly the kind of guy my mother would pick for me.

He'd shown up with flowers, actual flowers, like this was 1952 and kissed Mom's cheek before turning to practice his charm on me.

"Isabella. I've heard so much about you." He said as he took my hand and brought it to his lips.

I resisted the urge to pull away. Mom was watching me, and I'd promised myself I'd play nice. One lunch. I could survive one lunch.

"Cole. Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine."

We sat down at the dining table-where lunch had already been served. Mom now has a fleet of domestic staff at her disposal and she was clearly making the most of it.

Damian had barely looked at me. Now he was the picture of the attentive husband, touching Mom's shoulder, refilling her wine glass, acting like I didn't exist.

Good. That's what I wanted. The devil he was.

"So, Isabella," Cole said, his hand finding mine on the table. "Your mother tells me you're looking for internship opportunities."

"That's right."

His thumb traced circles on my palm. It should've been pleasant but it wasn't.

"I might be able to help with that. I have connections at several publications in the city." He leaned closer, his fingers lacing through mine. "We should discuss it sometime. Over dinner, perhaps?"

Mom was literally trying to contain her grin.

I forced a smile. "Maybe."

"I'd love to hear more about what you're passionate about. What drives you. What keeps you up at night."

"I'm interested in investigative journalism. Uncovering the truth, exposing corruption-"

"How noble." He replied with a smile and his hand moved to my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Beautiful and principled. You're quite remarkable."

I heard Damian's fork scrape against his plate.

Cole didn't seem to notice. He kept touching me; my hand, my arm, my shoulder, each contact lingering too long. His smile never wavered. Neither did his attention.

"Tell me," he said, caressing the back of my hand with his thumb, "what made you choose journalism? Was it..."

"Drop her hand."

Everyone froze.

Damian's voice was cold and controlled, there was something underneath it that made my hairs stand on end

Cole blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I said drop her hand. Now."

"Damian..." Mom began looking confused, her smile vanishing from her face.

"She's clearly uncomfortable." Damian replied, his eyes locked on Cole, and if looks could kill, we'd be planning a funeral. "You've been making her uncomfortable since you sat down."

My cheeks blushed red. "I'm fine..."

"You're not fine." He said in a firm voice that could be mistaken for fatherly concern but we both knew it wasn't.

"You remind me of my niece. She had a boyfriend who couldn't keep his hands to himself either. He made her miserable."

The lie came out smooth and believable. I almost bought the lie as well.

Cole released my hand slowly, his perfect smile still in place. "My apologies. I didn't mean to overstep."

"Of course you didn't." Mom said as she reached over and squeezed Damian's arm. "That's sweet of you to look out for her. You're right, Cole tends to be a bit... enthusiastic."

"I just know what I want when I see it."

Cole looked at me with a smile, "And I see a lot of potential in Isabella."

The words sounded innocent but they weren't.

Mom stood up, still smiling even though the tension in the room was choking "Why don't we have dessert in the sitting room? I made that chocolate cake you love, Damian. Let me just grab it from the kitchen."

Damian stood up with her. "I'll help."

They disappeared together, leaving me alone with Cole.

The second they were gone, his expression changed.

The charming smile vanished. Something evil and sinister replaced it.

"Well," he said, leaning back in his chair. "That was interesting."

I started to stand. "I should probably..."

"Sit down, Isabella."

Something in his tone made me freeze. This wasn't the same man who'd been kissing my hand five minutes ago. This was someone else entirely.

"What do you want?"

"The same thing everyone wants. Information."

He pulled out his phone, swiped through it casually. "I have to admit, when I agreed to this little lunch date, I wasn't expecting much. But then I had a sudden stroke of luck."

My heart raced, he had something up his sleeves.

"What's going on here Cole?"

"The Velvet Room. That's the club where you worked, right? Nice place. Pretty upscale too. I was there a few weeks ago, actually. Celebrating a business deal."

No. No no no.

"I saw something interesting that night." He said as he turned his phone toward me.

The photo was grainy, taken from a distance. But it was clear enough. Me and Damian leaving together, his hand on my butt. My face turned up toward his.

I grasped onto the table for support.

"There are more," Cole said with a smirk on his face. " Very thorough documentation, if I am to say so myself."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Panic was clawing its way up my throat, but I forced it down, forced my face to remain expressionless

"I don't know what you think you saw..."

"Oh, I know exactly what I saw. The question is, does your mother?"

"What do you want?" I was surprised at the steadiness of my own voice.

"That's better."

He pocketed his phone. "I want something very simple, really. Your cooperation."

"With what?"

"That depends. How much do you value your mother's happiness? Her mental health? Because I imagine finding out her daughter fucked her husband before she even married him would be... devastating."

I gripped the edge of the table. "You're blackmailing me."

"I prefer to think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement." He leaned forward, his voice low" You do what I ask, when I ask it, and these photos stay private. Your mother never has to know what kind of daughter she raised."

"Go to hell."

"Tempting, but I'll pass." He stood up, straightening his jacket. "Think about it, Isabella. Think about what this information could do to your mother. To your stepfather's reputation. To your future as a journalist. One anonymous tip to the right people, and your entire life explodes."

I heard footsteps in the hallway. Mom and Damian were returning.

Cole's smile was back, bright and innocent. But his next words were barely a whisper.

"You know what I can do with this information. I just want one thing though. Your life will be pretty much safer if you do it."

Isabella's POV

"Tell me what you want." I tried to sound calm, unnerving, but the crack in my voice betrayed me.

Cole's smile was relaxed, as if he already knew he'd eventually have his way.

"It's quite easy actually," he said, leaning back on his chair. "I just need you to keep hooking up with Damian."

"What?"

"You heard me." Something shifted in his tone that I couldn't put my finger on. But whatever it was, it made him more dangerous.

"I want you to continue your... infidelity with your stepfather." The way he said this made me wince, and I could tell he was enjoying the game he was playing. "In fact, I want to make him fall in love with you. Just think of it as a little game of Samson and Delilah."

"And what do you have to gain from this?" There was no way the snake-like Cole was doing this just because he had a kink for affairs. There had to be something he was trying to gain from all this.

"Oh, it's nothing serious," he said, before his face went totally dark. "I just want you to be the end of the great Blackwell."

A cold shiver went down my spine. He wanted to use me to get Damian and probably get information out of him. Information that could most likely end everything he had worked for his entire life.

I couldn't do that. I just couldn't. I wasn't entirely sure of what I felt for Damian, but I knew I didn't want him to fall for Cole's schemes. Damian was also my mother's husband. She was happy again, and I wanted to keep that.

Cole regained his usual smile and calm demeanor. The rate at which this man switched from charming and amiable to calculating and dangerous was alarming.

"So what will you do, Isabella?"

"I... I can't." The words barely came out, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

"Well, that's a shame." Cole stretched for a champagne glass and started twirling the contents before taking a sip.

"I wonder what I will do with all these pictures of you and your stepfather. Maybe I should just send it to your mother right now. I wonder how she'll react when she sees it. Maybe she will..."

"Stop!" My voice came out shrill. "Stop, please."

I was fighting back the urge to cry. I had been bullied and blackmailed before but never this way. My body was trembling with emotions I couldn't explain. Anger? Indignance? Fear? Or maybe a mixture of all of them.

"Just give me another task," I said, my voice shaking. "I'll do anything. I'll give you anything you want. Please don't make me do this."

Cole's smile faded, but not completely gone. He stood up from his seat with the glass in his hand and walked to the large portrait on the wall, his back facing me.

"I'm sorry, Isabella." His voice was darker, resolute. "I can't do that. And your secret is only safe with me if you agree to my terms."

There was a short silence before I spoke again.

"I'll do it." It was getting harder to keep my voice steady. "I'll do it, but first tell me something."

Cole did not answer, but I saw his brows prick up.

"Why? Why are you going to such lengths to end Damian? Why are you so desperate to ruin him?"

Cole's face went the darkest I'd ever seen him. The air felt heavier, and each breath became a conscious effort.

"If only you knew who you're dealing with and his involvement with the death of your father."

Those words threw me off guard. Damian was involved in the death of my father? But that made no sense! What relationship did my dad have with him?

"What do you mean?" Cole sighed, rubbing his temple.

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"But you did. And now I have questions."

Before Cole could say anything, Damian and my mother entered the room. Mom was holding Damian's hands, and I wished seeing this didn't affect me the way it did. Damian's eye caught mine, and I turned my head to avoid his gaze. Cole was back to being the charismatic, charming man I first met.

I felt sick to my stomach. I had sex with the man that married my mother and became my stepfather. Apparently, the same man might have a hand in the death of my father. And everyone else was aware of these things except my unsuspecting mother. And a man my mother introduced me to has evidence that could possibly destroy my relationship with my mother and is using it to threaten me.

"I think I might want to give Cole a quick tour." Mother's cheerful voice rang out. She did seem happy, and this was supposed to make me happy too.

She led Cole out, and before Damian could even say anything to me, I rushed out of the room. I found myself in the garden after wandering a bit.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. A lot was happening at the same time.

All these happened because of one night. One stupid night, and now Cole had me dancing on the palm of his hands.

I heard footsteps coming from behind me and didn't even need to turn to know who that was. I could feel his presence like heat against my skin.

"What did he say to you?"

I didn't turn back. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me." He took a step, bridging the distance between us.

"Why do you even care?" I finally looked him in the eyes. "You're married to my mother, remember?"

His eyes flashed. "That doesn't answer my question."

"And I don't answer to you."

We stared at each other for a long minute. My eyes were tracing details I shouldn't notice on his body. The memories came flooding in-what it felt like to be with him.

"Fine." He resigned, and I felt a little disappointed.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

I walked away, afraid that I'd give in to anything he said if I stayed a second longer. He didn't stop me, and I rushed into my room. I crashed into my bed, still trying to process everything that happened.

I thought about Dad, Mom, my career that hadn't even started. Mom spent so many months grieving. She deserved to be happy.

But then there's Damian who fucked me the way I had never been fucked before.

A text message interrupted my thoughts.

It's Cole. Tomorrow. My place. 2pm. Come alone.