The event had turned out to be more spectacular than I'd imagined. The ballroom shimmered like something out of a dream — golden chandeliers dangled overhead, their light scattering across the glass walls and champagne flutes like a thousand tiny stars. The soft hum of classical music mingled with laughter, and the low murmur of business talk filled the air.
It was supposed to be a night for charity, but honestly? It felt like everyone here was playing dress-up in luxury. The Blackwood Foundation knew how to throw an event. Everywhere I turned, there was something glittering — diamonds, gowns, cufflinks, or smiles that didn't quite reach the eyes.
"Twenty million dollars already raised for orphanages," one woman at the next table whispered in awe, and I couldn't help but smile. That was huge. Maybe all the glitz was worth it if it meant something good came from it.
Maya had drifted away hours ago, flitting between investors and business owners like she was born for this world. I watched her from a distance — her green gown practically glowing under the chandelier lights — and I couldn't help but feel proud. She was a force, that girl. Confident. Driven. The kind of woman people turned to look at twice.
I took a delicate sip of champagne and then set the glass down, picking up the shrimp cocktail the waiter had left on the table. It was my small act of rebellion — choosing food over fake smiles.
But my peace didn't last.
Because someone was staring at me.
I could feel it.
You know that strange sense when your skin just tingles — like your body knows before your mind catches up? That's how it felt. From across the room, beyond the crowd of donors and executives, in the cordoned VIP section — there was a man watching me.
He wasn't trying to hide it. His gaze was steady, bold, almost unsettlingly calm.
I refused to look back. Nope. Not tonight.
I was done with men — with their promises, their temporary affection, their carefully curated lies. My heart wasn't an audition tape anymore.
So I straightened my posture, ignored the shiver down my spine, and focused on the shrimp cocktail like it held the secrets of the universe.
Just shrimp. Just me. Just peace.
"Hannah banana!" Maya's voice broke my concentration. She came nearly skipping toward me, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her grin was too big — that mischievous, glowing type that always meant chaos was about to follow.
I raised a brow. "What did you do?"
"I have two good news!" she announced, flopping into the seat beside me like she owned the place.
"Spill it, what got you smiling like that?" I asked, laughing despite myself.
"Killian called."
And just like that, my laughter died. My smile faded faster than a bubble popping.
"That's… the good news?" I asked, trying not to sound too harsh.
"I know, I know!" she rushed out, already seeing my face. "But he said he made a mistake, Han. He doesn't want the open relationship anymore. He wants to fix things."
I looked at her — really looked at her. She was glowing in the worst way — the kind of glow that came from hope, fragile and desperate. I wanted to protect her from that hope.
"Maya…" I started softly.
"I know you're not excited," she interrupted, forcing a tiny laugh. "But the next news will make you happy, I promise!"
"Go on," I said with a sigh.
"I got a potential investor!" she squealed. Loudly.
We both laughed like teenagers before noticing an older couple at the next table glaring at us. We mouthed sorry in unison and immediately giggled again.
"Oh my God, girl," I whispered, leaning closer. "How did that happen?"
"I used my charm, obviously," she said, flipping her hair dramatically.
I rolled my eyes affectionately. "I believe you."
Then she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And by the way… that guy? The one who's been checking you out from the VIP section? He's still at it."
"Maya," I groaned, "you've definitely had too much to drink."
She giggled. "Nope. I'm a little tipsy, but I know what I'm seeing. He's totally staring at you. And honestly, I don't blame him."
I tried to brush it off with a soft laugh, but my heart was doing that annoying thing again — beating faster, traitorously curious.
"Stop being so stiff," Maya said, waving down a passing waitress. She grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to me.
"Thanks," I said, half pouting. "But I haven't even finished my shrimp yet."
"Yeah, yeah, shrimp can wait. Drink this, loosen up a bit," she teased, raising her glass.
"To what?" I asked.
"To new opportunities. And maybe new men," she said, smirking.
I nearly choked on my sip. "Maya!"
She laughed so hard she had to clutch her clutch. "I'm kidding! Kind of. But seriously, I want you to at least talk to someone tonight. You've been hiding behind your work for too long."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help smiling. "You're impossible."
"And you're stubborn," she said, then added, "By the way, his name's Carlos."
"Carlos?" I repeated, confused.
"Mm-hmm. The man in the VIP section. He's… God, Hannah, he's dangerous. Not in a bad way. Just… the type that makes you forget your own name. He's got that thing — presence."
"Maya," I warned, shaking my head, "you know how I feel about matchmaking. Please don't—"
"I'm not matchmaking!" she cut in quickly. "I'm just saying, if I weren't taken, I'd be across that room already. His eyes are—" she paused dramatically, lowering her voice — "absolutely sinful."
"Maya!" I said again, giggling now.
"I'm serious! They're this icy blue color, like, you'd melt just looking at him. And when he moves his hands — oh, he wears gloves, by the way — you can see the outline of tattoos on his wrists. It's giving 'mystery with money.'"
I laughed, pressing my palm to my face. "You've officially lost it."
"Lost it and proud," she said, winking. "Anyway, just… keep your eyes open. Tonight could surprise you."
Before I could answer, she spotted someone across the room and immediately waved. "Oh! That's Mr. Laurent — I need to go introduce myself!"
And just like that, she was gone again.
I sat back, sighing into my champagne flute. The soft string music swelled in the background, the violins delicate and haunting. Around me, the crowd sparkled — laughter, perfume, champagne bubbles, a blur of luxury and secrets.
I told myself not to look toward the VIP section.
I really tried.
But curiosity is a dangerous thing.
So I glanced — just once.
And that's when I saw him.
The man Maya called Carlos.
He wasn't like anyone else in this room. Everyone else glowed with polite smiles and calculated warmth, but he looked… quiet. Commanding. Effortlessly composed. His dark suit fit him like it was tailored by Zeus himself — crisp, perfect, understated. The gloves Maya mentioned were real — black leather, smooth, elegant, and yet… there was something about the way he moved that made it clear they weren't just for show.
When he lifted his glass, the edge of ink peeked from beneath his cuff — a hint of black lines that disappeared under fabric. Tattoos.
And those eyes.
Maya hadn't exaggerated. Ice blue. Sharp. Intelligent. The kind of eyes that didn't just see you — they read you, layer by layer.
For a heartbeat, our gazes met.
It wasn't planned. I hadn't meant to. But when our eyes locked, the noise of the ballroom faded. Everything around me — the chatter, the music, the laughter — all blurred until there was just the two of us across the room, suspended in something wordless and strange.
It wasn't attraction, not exactly. It was… recognition. Like my soul tilted just slightly, trying to remember something it shouldn't.
And then, as if he sensed my confusion, he smiled — barely. A faint curve of his lips, polite but knowing.
My breath caught.
I looked away first.
Of course I did.
When I finally found Maya again, my chest still felt too tight, my pulse too fast. She was deep in conversation with a group of men in tuxedos, laughing like the queen she was.
I took another sip of champagne, forcing my heartbeat to slow.
Whatever that moment was, it didn't mean anything.
I was Hannah — the girl who'd stopped believing in fairy tales.
But for the first time in a long while, I wondered if maybe… just maybe… some stories weren't over yet.