Ava barely slept that night. Every time she closed her eyes, those dark, intense eyes haunted her — Damian Cross's stare wasn't something you could forget. It wasn't just that he was attractive, though he was, in a way that made most men look boyish by comparison. It was the way he saw her….like she wasn't invisible
Bryan's neglected wife or a faceless hotel maid blending into the background.
For the first time in what felt like forever, someone had noticed her.
She was foolish for letting it get to her, of course, men like Damian Cross didn't involve themselves with women like her. The wealthy and the powerful lived in a world entirely separate from hers. She was a name on a schedule, a uniform in a hallway. She knew better than to fantasize.
And yet, as she pulled on her work blouse and tied her hair back for another shift, her heart betrayed her. There was a flutter in her chest at the thought of seeing him again, no matter how improper or dangerous it might be for her career.
At the breakfast table, Bryan sat scrolling through his phone as he always do, an empty plate pushed aside. The remnants of his half-eaten toast and eggs had already gone cold. Ava didn't expect conversation. She rarely got more than a grunt or a complaint.
"I picked up an extra shift tonight," she said as casually as she could, pouring herself a cup of lukewarm coffee.
Bryan barely glanced up. "More figures…..Good. I'll be out anyway."
She bit her tongue. The less she asked about his plans, the fewer lies she'd be forced to pretend to believe.
Without another word, Ava grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
The hotel was alive with activity by the time she arrived. An exclusive event was scheduled for the evening — one of those luxury auctions where items no ordinary person could afford were sold off to people who wouldn't feel the loss. The staff was on edge, knowing half the city's elite would be passing through the lobby in a matter of hours.
Lacey greeted her near the front desk, her eyes gleaming with gossip.
"Guess who's attending tonight again?" Lacey whispered dramatically.
Ava didn't have to guess. "Mr. Cross?"
"Yup. And word is, he asked if you'd be working."
Ava's stomach tightened. "That's ridiculous. He probably just remembered my name from last night."
Lacey smirked. "Sweetheart, men like Damian Cross don't remember names unless they want something."
Ava tried to laugh it off, but the comment lingered.
As the afternoon wore on, she kept her head down, focusing on her usual duties — handling VIP requests, coordinating with room service, delivering floral arrangements to suites. Every so often, she'd catch a glimpse of security staff setting up cordons and velvet ropes for the evening's auction, murmuring into discreet earpieces.
Around six, Mr. Carter summoned her to the office.
"You'll be assigned to the ballroom tonight," he informed her, not bothering to look up from his notes. "Cross requested you again."
Ava's pulse skipped. "I'm not sure I should—"
"You'll do it," Carter cut her off. "And you'll smile. Do you have any idea what it means for the hotel to have him here? Keep him happy. Understand?"
She swallowed her protest. What choice did she have?
"Yes, sir."
By eight o'clock, the ballroom was packed with men in tailored tuxedos and women in glittering evening gowns. Champagne flutes sparkled beneath the chandeliers, and soft classical music drifted through the room.
Ava moved quietly through the crowd, ensuring that every detail met the impossibly high standards set for the evening. She was adjusting a place card on one of the front tables when she felt a presence behind her. The kind of awareness that prickled along her skin before a single word was spoken.
"Ava."
His voice was unmistakable.
She turned, heart pounding, to find Damian Cross standing mere inches away. He was dressed in a sharply cut black suit, his dark hair slicked back, and eyes that seemed to burn in the dim light.
"Mr. Cross," she managed, forcing a polite smile. "Is there something I can assist you with?"
"You already have."
Before she could decipher what he meant, his gaze flicked over her shoulder. "Walk with me."
It wasn't a request.
Ava hesitated. She should've said no. Should've claimed she had work to do or that management wouldn't approve. But something in his expression made defiance impossible.
She followed him to the far side of the ballroom, where towering glass windows overlooked the city skyline. The dim of conversation dimmed behind them.
"Why did you request me?" she asked, finding her courage. "There are dozens of staff here more qualified."
"Because I don't trust most people," he said simply. "And because you intrigue me."
Her breath caught. That wasn't the answer she expected.
"I'm a married woman, Mr. Cross," she said quietly.
His eyes didn't waver. "That wasn't a proposition, Ava. I'm not in the habit of chasing unavailable women."
Somehow, she didn't quite believe that. The way he looked at her made her question every certainty she had about herself, about what was right and what was worth risking.
"I'm not sure what you want from me."
He considered her for a long moment. "Not what you think. Not yet."
The words sent a shiver down her spine.
Before she could respond, one of Damian's associates approached, murmuring something about the next auction item. Damian nodded but didn't immediately turn away.
"Be careful," he said, voice low. "Not everyone in this room has good intentions."
Ava wanted to ask what he meant, but he was already gone, moving with the effortless grace of a man who commanded every room he entered.
The rest of the night passed in a haze. Ava felt eyes on her everywhere she went, as though word had spread about the conversation she'd shared with the city's most powerful man. Or maybe it was just in her head. Either way, she kept her head down, avoiding Damian's gaze whenever she caught it from across the ballroom.
It wasn't until nearly midnight that she finally slipped away to the staff corridor, desperate for a moment alone. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to steady her racing pulse.
She didn't hear the footsteps until they were close.
When she looked up, it wasn't Lacey or Carter or one of the other staff members. It was Bryan.
Drunk.
His hair was mussed, eyes bloodshot, a scowl twisting his face.
"So this is where you've been," he slurred. "Playing housemaid to rich bastards."
Ava's stomach sank. "What are you doing here? You're not allowed—"
"Came to see if the rumors were true," he spat. "You screwing your boss now, Ava? Huh?"
Her heart raced. "Stop it, Bryan. You're drunk."
He lunged forward, grabbing her wrist. "Bet you think you're too good for me now."
Ava struggled, trying to wrench free, panic rising.
"Is there a problem here?"
The voice came from behind them…..cold, sharp, unmistakably Damian's.
Bryan turned, instantly wary. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm the man you should have never laid a hand on her in front of."
Bryan's grip loosened. Damian stepped forward, his towering frame making Bryan shrink. Ava felt the shift in the air — the electric, dangerous tension of a man who didn't raise his voice to intimidate, but rather let his power speak for itself.
"Leave," Damian ordered, eyes never leaving Bryan's.
For once, Bryan obeyed. Muttering curses under his breath, he staggered down the hallway and out of sight.
Ava's pulse thundered in her ears.
Damian turned to her. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
But inside, she knew something had just shifted between them.
And whatever line had existed before… it was starting to blur.