By Aria's third week at Vale Industries, she understood two things about Dominic Vale.
He spoke less than necessary.
And he noticed everything.
She noticed things too.
Like how his voice shifted when speaking to government officials — warmer, persuasive.
How his jaw tightened whenever the Whitmore name was mentioned in meetings.
How his gaze lingered on her just a second too long before he looked away.
But he never crossed a line.
Not once.
Until Thursday evening.
"Clear your schedule tonight," he said without looking up from his tablet.
She paused mid-note. "For how long?"
"The entire evening."
She nodded. "Is it a board dinner?"
"No."
He finally looked at her.
"It's a political gala."
Her stomach dipped slightly.
"I'll need you there."
Professional. Calm. Neutral.
But something unspoken hovered beneath it.
The Whitmore Foundation Gala was hosted in one of the most historic buildings in the city — chandeliers dripping gold light, marble pillars, cameras flashing like lightning.
Aria felt underdressed even in the navy gown Dominic's assistant had sent to her apartment earlier that afternoon.
It fit perfectly.
Too perfectly.
When Dominic stepped out of the car beside her, conversations dimmed.
He wore a black tuxedo like it was armor.
Untouchable.
Cameras turned instantly.
He didn't offer his arm at first.
Then he did.
A subtle motion.
An expectation.
Aria slipped her hand through his, pulse fluttering at the warmth beneath his jacket sleeve.
"Stay close," he murmured quietly.
"I'm your assistant," she replied softly. "That's my job."
His thumb shifted slightly against her wrist.
"Tonight," he said, voice lower, "it's more than that."
Before she could ask what he meant, the doors opened.
And the flashbulbs began.
She saw Selene Whitmore before she was introduced.
Graceful. Controlled. Born into rooms like this.
Selene wore silver silk that clung like liquid moonlight. Diamonds rested at her throat — not flashy, just expensive enough to whisper power.
When her eyes landed on Dominic, she smiled.
When her eyes landed on Aria—
They sharpened.
"Dominic," Selene greeted smoothly, leaning in for a cheek kiss that lingered just long enough for cameras to capture it.
Then she turned to Aria.
"And you must be?"
"Aria Bennett," Dominic answered before she could. "She works closely with me."
Closely.
The word hung in the air.
Selene extended her hand. Her grip was gentle.
But her eyes were assessing.
"You're new," Selene said.
"Yes."
"How exciting."
It didn't feel like a compliment.
Behind them, a tall older man approached — silver hair, commanding presence.
"Dominic," he greeted.
Aria immediately recognized him from news channels.
Senator Richard Whitmore.
The man rumored to be preparing a presidential campaign.
"Senator," Dominic replied smoothly.
The handshake between them wasn't friendly.
It was strategic.
Aria felt it — like watching two chess players who already knew the endgame.
The senator's gaze flickered toward her.
"And this is?"
"My executive assistant."
Again, the faintest emphasis.
The senator gave a knowing smile.
"Surrounding yourself with beauty and competence, I see."
Aria forced a polite smile.
Dominic's hand moved then.
Not to her arm.
Not to her shoulder.
To her waist.
Firm.
Possessive.
Just subtle enough that cameras wouldn't question it — but Selene would notice.
And Selene did.
Her smile thinned.
The evening unfolded in speeches and strategic laughter.
Aria stayed by Dominic's side, handing him documents, whispering reminders, adjusting schedules.
But she felt his awareness of her constantly.
Like heat just beneath skin.
When they finally stepped onto a quieter balcony overlooking the city lights, she exhaled.
"You didn't tell me it would be like this," she murmured.
"Like what?"
"Like walking into a chessboard."
He studied her profile in the soft glow of the city.
"It is a chessboard."
"And what am I?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped closer.
Close enough that the night air no longer felt cool.
"You're not a piece," he said quietly.
"Then what?"
His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second.
"An unexpected variable."
Her breath caught.
Footsteps echoed behind them.
Selene.
"Dominic," she said lightly, though her eyes were anything but soft. "They're asking for you inside."
He didn't move right away.
His hand was still at Aria's waist.
Still warm.
Still firm.
Then slowly—
He removed it.
Back to composed.
Back to untouchable.
"I'll be there."
Selene looked between them one last time before turning away.
Aria stepped back slightly.
"This is complicated," she said gently.
"It's necessary," he corrected.
"For who?"
His jaw tightened.
"For everyone."
But when they re-entered the ballroom, the cameras caught something neither of them realized:
The way he looked at her.
And the way she looked back.
By morning, political blogs would start whispering.
And Selene Whitmore would start investigating.