The ValeTech gala was everything Ava had imagined it would be—coldly perfect, glittering with power and ego. The chandeliers shimmered like frozen fire above a sea of black suits and sequined dresses. A string quartet played in the corner, soft and deliberate, while waiters glided past with champagne that sparkled like liquid light.
Ava stood near the edge of the crowd, her deep emerald dress a rebellion against the endless black. She didn't belong here, not really. She was an artist, not a guest. Her hands were made for color, not crystal glasses. Yet she had been invited—by him.
Sebastian Vale.
She felt him before she saw him.
That same quiet pull, like gravity recognizing its opposite.
When he entered the room, conversation dipped as if the air itself bowed to his presence. He was power wrapped in silk and sin—a tailored black suit, a midnight tie, eyes sharp enough to command the world. But when those eyes found her across the room, something in his composure faltered.
Ava's breath caught. His gaze wasn't polite, or casual. It lingered. It searched.
He moved through the crowd effortlessly, exchanging nods and clipped smiles, but his focus never drifted. And when he finally reached her, the noise around them faded to a dull hum.
"You came," he said, voice low enough for her alone.
"You invited me," she replied, her lips curving just slightly.
"Most people don't accept my invitations so easily."
"I'm not most people."
The faintest smile touched his mouth—one that never reached his eyes. "No. You're not."
For a moment, they simply looked at each other. He stood close enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne—dark, restrained, familiar. The orchestra swelled, violins threading through the silence between them.
"You look…" He hesitated, his composure slipping. "Beautiful."
The word felt heavier than it should have. Dangerous. She could almost feel the weight of it slide across her skin.
"Careful," she teased softly. "Someone might hear you say something human."
His eyes narrowed, though a flicker of amusement warmed them. "You have a habit of saying things that undo me."
"Maybe I like seeing you undone."
His jaw tensed. He took a half step closer, their proximity almost scandalous in the glittering room. "You're playing a dangerous game, Ava."
She tilted her head, her pulse quickening. "And what game would that be?"
"The one where you pretend not to know what you're doing to me."
The words hit her like heat. The air between them thickened—alive, charged. She felt it in her chest, her throat, her hands. Her voice wavered slightly when she answered, "Maybe you deserve to be undone."
He exhaled slowly, as if the effort of holding back was beginning to hurt. "You should leave before I forget where we are."
"Would you?" she whispered.
He didn't answer. He just looked at her, the kind of look that stripped her bare without ever touching her. Every line of his body was tension—wanting and refusing at once.
Then someone called his name—an investor, a distraction—and the spell broke.
He turned, nodding politely to the interruption, slipping his mask back on. By the time he faced her again, the fire in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by cool control.
"I'll have my driver take you home," he said, tone smooth, professional.
"I didn't ask for that."
"I didn't say it was a request."
Her lips parted, a retort rising, but he was already walking away. She watched him move through the crowd, perfectly composed, while her heartbeat refused to steady.
Outside, the night was cool and damp, the London skyline shimmering across the river. She stepped into the waiting car, closing the door behind her. Through the tinted glass, she saw him standing in the doorway of the ballroom, his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on her like a promise he was trying not to make.
Ava turned away, pressing her fingers against her wrist where her pulse raced wildly.
She knew this was only the beginning.
He could bury it beneath control and caution, but desire—real, consuming desire—had a way of finding cracks.
And in both their hearts, those cracks were already beginning to spread.