The room glittered with gold and secrets.
Ava Morgan smoothed the front of her thrifted navy dress and took a deep breath, willing the anxiety down her spine to settle. She hated these kinds of events, rich people pretending to care, sipping champagne while calculating net worths behind half-lidded stares.
But she was here for a reason. (if tonight's gala went smoothly, her struggling event planning company might finally get the funding it needed. One shot. No errors.)
She moved quickly through the sea of designer gowns and tailored suits, checking arrangements. The centerpieces were flawless, the music was at just the right decibel, and the hors d'oeuvres had stopped looking like mini science experiments. She almost allowed herself a smile,until she saw him.
Standing alone by the far window, untouched drink in hand, was Damien Wolfe.
Of course.
Every article she'd read had described him as ruthless, brilliant, and cold. A billionaire who built an empire from algorithms and silence. And he looked the part, perfectly pressed black suit, sharp cheekbones, and a face carved from stone.
Ava had met his type before. The powerful ones who looked through people like windows, only seeing what they wanted. And yet, there was something about how still he stood, how tightly he gripped the glass, that made her pause.
She didn't have time for curiosity.
As she turned to speak to a waiter, she heard the sound of crystal shattering. Her heart skipped.
She whipped around. Damien Wolfe stood over a broken glass, expression unreadable, with red liquid wine, she hoped, seeping across the marble.
No one moved. No one dared.
Ava exhaled sharply and strode forward.
"Accidents happen," she said, kneeling and signaling a staff member. "Even to men who don't smile."
His gaze dropped to hers, unreadable and sharp.
"You're not afraid of me?" he asked, voice low and quiet.
"Should I be?"
A pause.
"Most people are."
She offered a cloth to blot his hand. "I'm not most people."
For a moment, the air between them thickened. A flicker of something,curiosity, maybe flashed in his eyes.
Then, just like that, the moment passed.
"I've been watching how you work," he said. "You handle chaos like it owes you money."
"Part of the job."
"I might have another one for you. A more... unusual arrangement."
Ava raised a brow. "Unless it involves flowers and finger foods, I doubt I'm interested."
Damien's lips twitched. It wasn't quite a smile, but close enough to feel like danger.
"I think you will be."
.....
Chapter Two : A Necessary Disruption
(Damien's POV)
Silence was supposed to be soothing. Tonight, it grated.
Damien Wolfe stood near the ballroom window, eyes skimming over the meaningless elegance. Gold-draped chandeliers. Laughter that felt hollow. Conversations designed for vanity. A network of wolves in velvet suits.
He hated galas. But legacy demanded appearances. And appearances demanded precision.
Across the room, investors circled like sharks. His company's expansion deal with the Laurent family needed smoothing. They wanted to see a more relatable side of him, something warm, something fake. A girlfriend, they said. A fiancée, preferably.
He gritted his teeth.
The moment his hand tightened around his wine glass, it shattered, red streaking his palm like accusation. People froze. Someone gasped. Pathetic.
And then...her.
A woman with clipped heels and wild hazel eyes moved through the crowd like she wasn't afraid of anything. She crouched beside the broken glass and said something he didn't expect:
"Even to men who don't smile."
No flattery. No fear. No angle.
Damien studied her. Sharp posture. Calm voice. Every movement was efficient, controlled. But behind her eyes, something sparkled he couldn't tell what it is , maybe like like fire barely tamed. But there was another word or sentenced he'd rather prefer
"You're not afraid of me?"
She met his gaze. "Should I be?"
Most people folded under that stare. She didn't blink.
Intriguing.
He watched her handle the mess like she'd done it a thousand times. Professional. Poised. And yet, unpolished enough to feel real. The kind of real money couldn't manufacture.
He knew who she was , Ava Morgan. Independent event planner. Recently started her own firm. Blacklisted from some elite circles after a high-profile breakup with Carrington.
Blake Carrington. Damien's jaw tightened.
He didn't care for social gossip, but Blake was known in his circles for manipulation dressed as charm. That Ava had escaped, and built something on her own meant she wasn't just interesting. She was useful.
And maybe, exactly what he needed.
When he told her she had potential for a different kind of job, her eyes narrowed, calculating.
She'd say no. Of course she would. People like her always needed a reason to say yes.
Damien watched her walk away.
Smart. Beautiful. Unafraid.
His mind, built for puzzles and profit, was already arranging the pieces: a fake engagement, a softened image, the Laurent deal secured.
All he had to do was convince the one woman in the room who saw through him , to lie with him, for him.
And that, Damien thought, might be the first interesting challenge in a very long time.