The night Lila Evans decided to attend the Blackwood Charity Gala was the night everything began to unravel.
She hadn't wanted to come.
In fact, she had spent a full twenty minutes standing outside the grand ballroom of the Blackwood Grand Hotel, staring at her reflection in the polished marble wall and wondering if she could still escape with her dignity intact.
"You've got this," she muttered under her breath.
Lila Evans didn't belong in places like this—rooms dripping with crystal chandeliers, people wearing watches that cost more than her yearly rent, and women who looked like they had never worried about overdraft fees a day in their lives.
But she wasn't here by choice.
She was here for work.
And Lila Evans never ran from work.
Taking a steady breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped inside.
The ballroom was a glittering sea of wealth and power.
Soft classical music floated through the air. Waiters in pristine white gloves moved like ghosts between clusters of elite guests. Lila adjusted the simple navy dress she'd spent three days choosing—professional, elegant, and most importantly, affordable.
Her boss's voice echoed in her mind.
"This is important, Lila. Blackwood Enterprises could make or break us."
No pressure.
She scanned the room, clutching her tablet tightly. Somewhere in this crowd was Adrian Blackwood—the youngest billionaire CEO in the country and the most notoriously difficult man to negotiate with.
Cold.
Ruthless.
Untouchable.
Lila rolled her eyes slightly.
"Please," she murmured. "He's just a man, not the devil."
Famous last words.
Across the ballroom, Adrian Blackwood was already watching her.
He had noticed her the moment she walked in.
Not because she was the most beautiful woman in the room—though she was striking in a sharp, understated way—but because she didn't look impressed.
Everyone else did.
Everyone always did.
Adrian stood near the balcony doors, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of untouched whiskey. His dark eyes followed Lila as she navigated the room with cautious determination.
Interesting.
Most people either fawned over him or avoided him.
This woman was doing neither.
Instead, she looked… annoyed.
His lips curved slightly.
That was new.
Lila finally spotted him.
Or rather—she spotted the crowd orbiting around him like he was the sun and they were desperate little planets.
That must be him.
Even from across the room, Adrian Blackwood commanded attention. Tall. Impeccably dressed. Sharp jawline. Expression carved from pure indifference.
And unfortunately…
Very, very handsome.
Lila immediately frowned.
"Great," she muttered. "He's one of those."
Still, work was work.
She marched forward.
Adrian saw her coming.
Most people hesitated before approaching him.
She did not.
If anything, she looked like she was preparing for battle.
His interest sharpened.
The surrounding socialites were mid-laugh when Lila stepped directly into the circle.
"Mr. Blackwood," she said clearly.
The chatter died instantly.
Adrian turned slowly.
Their eyes met.
And the air shifted.
For one brief second, neither of them spoke.
Lila felt it first—that strange, electric tension that made her spine stiffen.
Why is he looking at me like that?
Adrian, meanwhile, was cataloging everything.
Steady gaze.
No nervous fidgeting.
Chin slightly lifted in defiance.
Oh, this woman was trouble.
"How can I help you?" Adrian asked coolly.
His voice was smooth.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
Lila resisted the very strong urge to roll her eyes.
"I'm Lila Evans from Stratagem Consulting. We have a scheduled discussion regarding the Westbridge development proposal."
A flicker of recognition crossed Adrian's eyes.
Then amusement.
"Ah," he said slowly. "You're the analyst who's been flooding my office with emails."
Lila's smile tightened.
"They're called follow-ups, Mr. Blackwood. Standard professional practice."
A few nearby guests visibly winced.
No one talked to Adrian Blackwood like that.
No one.
Adrian's gaze darkened slightly.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"You're persistent," he said.
Lila crossed her arms.
"I'm efficient."
A pause.
The tension thickened.
Somewhere in the background, someone quietly slipped away from the conversation circle.
Smart move.
Adrian took a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving hers.
"Most people in your position try to impress me."
Lila's brows lifted.
"Should I bring pom-poms next time?"
Silence.
Then—
One of Adrian's eyebrows rose.
And to everyone's shock…
He almost smiled.
But the moment didn't last.
Adrian set his glass down with deliberate care.
"You're either very brave, Miss Evans," he said quietly, "or very foolish."
Lila stepped closer.
Close enough to see the faint scar near his collarbone.
Close enough to smell his expensive, understated cologne.
Close enough that her pulse did something extremely inconvenient.
"I've been called worse," she replied evenly.
Their eyes locked again.
And this time—
Neither of them looked away.
Across the room, whispers had already begun.
"Who is she?"
"She's arguing with him…"
"Is she insane?"
But Lila didn't hear any of it.
Because for the first time since entering the ballroom…
Adrian Blackwood was looking directly at her like she was the only person in the room.
And she hated how much she noticed.
Adrian leaned slightly closer.
"Tell me, Miss Evans," he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear, "do you always speak to potential clients this way?"
Lila's lips curved—sharp and fearless.
"Only the arrogant ones."
A dangerous pause followed.
Something unreadable flickered in Adrian's eyes.
Then—
"Good," he said softly.
Lila blinked.
"…Excuse me?"
Adrian straightened, expression returning to its usual cold composure.
"Because I don't do business with cowards."
Her stomach dropped.
Wait.
Was that—
Was that approval?
Before she could process it, Adrian turned toward the balcony.
"Walk with me, Miss Evans."
Not a request.
An order.
Lila's jaw tightened.
Every instinct told her to refuse.
To push back.
To remind this infuriating man that she did not take commands from billionaire tyrants.
But another voice—quieter and far more dangerous—whispered:
This is your chance.
With visible reluctance, she followed him.
Neither of them noticed the woman watching from across the ballroom.
Her manicured nails dug into her champagne glass.
Her eyes burned with quiet fury.
And her gaze was fixed entirely on Lila Evans.