Chapter 142 - 144: The Dinner Trap

"I don’t trust this," Damien said for the third time that evening.

They were in his room, getting ready for dinner. Or rather, Aria was trying to get ready while Damien paced the bedroom like a caged predator.

"You’ve made that clear," Aria said patiently, fastening her earrings. "But we already accepted the invitation. Declining now would look worse than going."

"I don’t care how it looks. This is a trap."

"Probably. But what kind of trap can they really spring at a dinner party? Victoria apologizes publicly for her behavior at Bergdorf’s, we act gracious and mature, we eat overpriced food, and we leave. It’s a few hours of mild discomfort at worst."

Damien stopped pacing to look at her. "You’re not taking this seriously enough."

"I’m taking it exactly as seriously as it deserves." She turned to face him, smoothing down the midnight blue cocktail dress she’d chosen. "Harold Ashford wants to make me look unsuitable for you. Fine. Let him try. I’m not some delicate flower who’s going to crumble under social pressure."

"I know you’re not. But you’re also not used to how vicious these people can be. How they use politeness as a weapon. How they make you feel like you’re failing some test you didn’t even know you were taking."

Aria crossed to him, placing her hands on his chest. "Then help me. What should I expect? What do I need to watch out for?"

Damien’s arms came around her waist automatically. "They’ll ask about your family. Not directly....they’re too polite for that. But someone will mention their lineage, their grandfather who founded this or that company, their mother’s charity work. And then they’ll ask about yours, knowing full well you don’t have the pedigree they do."

"So I tell the truth. My mother is a seamstress. I grew up in Chinatown. I’m not ashamed of where I came from."

"You shouldn’t be. But they’ll make you feel like you should be. That’s their weapon....making people feel inferior for not being born into the right families."

"What else?"

"They’ll test your knowledge of social protocols. Seating arrangements, wine pairings, which fork to use for which course. Proper forms of address. Topics that are acceptable for dinner conversation versus topics that aren’t. A hundred little rules that seem arbitrary but matter intensely to people like the Ashfords."

Aria felt a flutter of nervousness despite herself. "I’ve been to formal dinners with you. I know the basics."

"Basics aren’t enough for Harold Ashford. He’ll create situations specifically designed to trip you up. To make you look unsophisticated in front of people whose opinions matter."

"Whose opinions? Who else will be there?"

Damien’s expression darkened. "That’s what concerns me most. Victoria’s invitation said ’intimate dinner party,’ but knowing Harold, the guest list will be strategically chosen. Old family friends. Business associates who’ve known the Blackwoods for generations. Maybe even..."

He stopped abruptly.

"Maybe even what?"

"Nothing. Just paranoia."

But Aria could see the worry in his eyes. "Damien. Tell me what you’re thinking."

He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "I’m thinking that Harold Ashford is exactly the type to arrange for my grandfather to be there.

Aria’s stomach dropped. "Would he do that?"

"Maybe If Harold suggested he might want to observe incognito, Grandfather would probably agree. He’s done it before....shown up unexpectedly to events to see how people behave when they think he’s not watching."

"So this dinner party might actually be my first impression with your grandfather."

"Possibly. Which is exactly why I think we should cancel. Send our regrets. I’ll handle whatever social fallout...."

"No." Aria’s voice was firm. "We’re not running from this. If your grandfather is there, then he’s there. I’d rather he see the real me than some carefully rehearsed performance anyway."

"The real you is brilliant and strong and perfect. But Harold will do everything in his power to make sure that’s not what my grandfather sees."

Aria cupped his face with both hands. "Then we’ll be smarter than Harold. We’ll be prepared. You’ll help me navigate the social minefield, and I’ll prove that I belong at your side regardless of what family I was born into."

Damien’s eyes searched hers. "You’re really not scared?"

"I’m terrified," she admitted. "But I’m not going to let fear make me hide. I’m not going to let the Ashfords dictate how we live our lives. And I’m definitely not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me run."

He pulled her close, his lips brushing her forehead. "You’re going to be magnificent. You always are. I just wish you didn’t have to prove yourself to people who’ve already decided they’re better than you."

"Everyone has to prove themselves sometimes. Even people born into the right families with the right last names. At least I’m proving myself based on who I am rather than who my parents were."

"That’s exactly the attitude that’s going to drive Harold Ashford insane," Damien said with a hint of satisfaction. "He’s expecting you to be intimidated. To try too hard to fit in. Instead, you’re going to walk in there being unapologetically yourself."

"Is that the strategy? Because I’m not sure how to be anyone else at this point."

"That’s exactly the strategy. You’re brilliant, accomplished, and confident. You’ve earned your place through merit, not inheritance. And anyone who can’t see that isn’t worth impressing anyway."

Aria smiled. "Even your grandfather?"

"Even my grandfather. Though I think once he actually meets you, he’ll see what I see. Someone extraordinary who challenges me to be better than I am."

"You’re biased."

"Completely. Doesn’t make it less true." He glanced at his watch. "We should leave soon. The Ashfords are in the Upper East Side, and traffic will be terrible."

"One more thing," Aria said, stopping him before he could move away. "If this does go badly. If I make mistakes or embarrass myself or prove that I’m not sophisticated enough for your world...."

"That won’t happen."

"But if it does," she insisted. "I need you to promise me something. Promise me you won’t blame yourself. Won’t feel like you have to defend me or protect me from the consequences. I’m choosing to walk into this situation with my eyes open. Whatever happens is on me."

Damien’s expression turned fierce. "No. If anyone tries to make you feel inferior, they’ll have to go through me first. That’s not negotiable."

"Damien...."

"No"

" I know you don’t need me to rescue you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and watch people try to tear you down." His hands framed her face. "You’re mine. And anyone who tries to hurt you is going to learn very quickly that I don’t play fair when it comes to protecting what I love."

The intensity in his voice, in his eyes, made her breath catch.

"Okay," she whispered. "Together, then."

"Always." He kissed her deeply and possessively, a physical reminder of everything they were to each other.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Damien rested his forehead against hers.

"Whatever happens tonight," he said softly, Remember that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be."

Aria nodded, drawing strength from his certainty even as her own nervousness churned in her stomach.

In three hours, she’d face her first real test in Damien’s world. And possibly her first encounter with the man whose opinion mattered most: Richard Blackwood.

She just hoped she was ready.

************

RICHARD BLACKWOOD’S POV

Richard Blackwood stood in the private room above the Ashford’s formal dining room, looking down through the one-way mirror that Harold had installed years ago for exactly this purpose.

At seventy-two, Richard was still imposing: tall, silver-haired, with the kind of presence that commanded respect without demanding it. He’d built Blackwood Enterprises from a successful regional company into a global empire. He’d survived his son’s death, raised his grandson, and maintained the family reputation through three generations.

And now that grandson....his legacy, his pride....had apparently fallen in love with a former maid.

"She should be arriving any moment," Harold said from beside him. "I wanted you to see her before the official dinner next week. See how she handles herself in society."

"And you think she’ll handle herself poorly?" Richard asked mildly.

"I think she’s a very clever girl who’s punching above her weight," Harold said carefully. "Damien is clearly infatuated. But infatuation fades. The question is whether Aria Chen has the substance to be a true partner to someone of Damien’s standing."

"Substance," Richard repeated. "Interesting word choice."

"She’s accomplished in her own way," Harold conceded. "MIT graduate, skilled in various areas. But accomplishment isn’t the same as being suitable for the Blackwood name. Your family has certain standards, certain expectations. A certain legacy to maintain."

Richard said nothing, his eyes on the arriving guests below. He’d agreed to this observation because Harold had made valid points. He wanted to see his grandson’s new love before making judgments. Wanted to understand what had captured Damien’s attention so completely.

But he was also aware that Harold Ashford had his own agenda. Had been pushing Victoria toward Damien for years. This "neutral observation" was anything but.

Still, Richard would make his own assessment. He always did.

A car pulled up outside. Damien’s Aston Martin. And Richard leaned forward slightly, curious despite himself, as his grandson emerged from the driver’s side.

Then Aria Chen stepped out of the passenger side, and Richard got his first real look at the woman who’d turned his grandson’s world upside down.

She was beautiful....that was undeniable. Not in the polished, identical way of most society girls, but with a natural grace that the midnight blue dress only enhanced. Asian features, delicate but with an underlying strength in her posture. She moved with confidence, not the desperate people-pleasing he’d expected from someone trying to social climb.

And the way Damien looked at her...

Richard had seen his grandson at countless social events with countless women. Had watched him be charming and attentive without ever being genuinely engaged.

This was different. The way Damien’s hand settled at the small of her back. The way his entire body angled toward her protectively. The way he leaned down to murmur something in her ear that made her smile.

This wasn’t infatuation. This was something deeper.

"Let’s see how the evening unfolds," Richard said neutrally.

Below, Aria Chen took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into what she clearly knew was a battlefield.

And Richard found himself, despite everything, hoping she’d survive it.