Helen balanced a tray of champagne flutes, her hands steady even as her mind raced.
The gala was crowded tonight, voices rising in a buzz of wealth, laughter, and ambition. She moved between tables, offering polite smiles, noting the way some guests barely glanced at her, and the way others lingered, evaluating her like she was an accessory to the event.
She had learned to fade into the background, to make herself almost invisible. That was her armor. That was how she survived.
Then she felt it a gaze not just a gaze
Her chest tightened before she even turned. Instinctively, she knew it was him. Tall, black hair, sharp brown eyes that seemed to see everything and her specifically
Damien Moretti. The man the city whispered about in fearful tones, whose reputation was forged in boardrooms, back alleys, and rumors that never reached the light.
He wasn't supposed to notice her. She wasn't supposed to exist in his world. And yet… there he was, studying her like a predator yet somehow, not entirely.
Helen's pulse quickened. She looked away,
forcing herself to concentrate on the champagne, on the guests, on anything but him. But the sound of a deep, controlled voice behind her made her freeze.
"You dropped something." he said looking at her
She turned slowly, tray clattering slightly in her hands.
Damien stood there, a faint smirk playing on his lips, holding a folded napkin she hadn't noticed slip from her pocket. His presence filled the space, towering over her in a way that made her heart pound
her heart start beating fast
"I… thank you," she stammered, cheeks flushing
"Careful," he said softly, his eyes locking on hers, unyielding.
"These events aren't kind to distracted girls."
Helen swallowed
unsure if she was more nervous about spilling the tray or about standing so close to the most dangerous man in the room
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she realized he was deliberately keeping her attention, keeping her close without touching. Every instinct told her to retreat, yet curiosity anchored her in place.
He studied her for a long moment.
"I'm watching," he said, almost casually, and then he stepped back, melting into the crowd like smoke.
Helen's knees felt weak
Her hands trembled slightly as she set the tray down on a nearby table
Something had shifted. She didn't understand what this man wanted, or why she felt like she had already surrendered to the pull of him.
Back in the corner of the room, Damien observed her disappear into the flow of the gala.
He had no plans to leave her be not now, not ever. She had drawn his attention, and in her, he had glimpsed something rare: strength beneath fragility, fire beneath gentleness.
The city outside roared with life, indifferent to the quiet collision that had just taken place in a hotel ballroom. But for Helen and Damien, nothing would ever be the same.