How was I supposed to react? My thoughts weren't mine anymore. They were consumed with the image of him, the way Asher's jaw clenched when he dropped me off, the sudden shadow that crossed his expression as if he wanted to say something but swallowed it instead. That haunted silence followed me, seeping into my chest even now.
Even though I was dressed like an elite, my heart was nowhere close. My heels clicked against the marble, echoing louder than the confidence I pretended to carry. Chin high, shoulders back, I walked as if I belonged. Swift. Graceful. Perfect enough to fool even myself. But inside… I was trembling.
The banquet glittered around me. Chandeliers shimmered like frozen constellations, glasses clinked, and laughter rippled from gilded throats. I spotted familiar faces of models I'd once assisted as an intern, women draped in designer gowns that screamed ownership, privilege, power. A past life I never quite belonged to. Still, I drifted closer, my lips curving into a polite smile.
I reached for a glass of champagne when I heard it. Whispers. Murmurs sharp enough to slice through skin.
"Look at her. How did she even come here?" "Was she invited?" "She thinks she belongs here." A chuckle. "Some rich boyfriend must've bought that dress… fooled by her face."
The sound lodged itself in my chest, tearing through my ribcage. My fingers trembled against the flute of glass, my throat tightening as if their words had branded me. I turned, desperate to leave before the crack would seem visible, and suddenly, "fuck-" I collided into someone.
Hard chest. Firm grip. His hand steadied me, warm against the curve of my waist. A low voice, threaded with mockery and something far more dangerous, curled at my ear."It's you again, Miss Clumsy." My heart stuttered.
Of course. The same model I'd crashed into by the elevators that day. Close enough now that his cologne wrapped around me, expensive. His gaze dragged over me, slow and unhurried, as if peeling away the layers I'd worked so hard to stitch together. And God, he looked even more flawless up close. His hand lingered at my waist a second too long, steadying me as if I were fragile porcelain.
"I-I'm sorry," I breathed, forcing my voice to steady. "Are you alright?" His voice was soothing. "Yeah, I am, " as I quickly murmured, "Thank you… again."
The corner of his mouth curved. Not a smile too dangerous for that. "Thanking me isn't enough, Miss Clumsy." His gaze pinned me, amused and calculating. "Why don't you make it up to me by being my date… for the night?" My lips parted. Date? My pulse skipped, thundering in my throat. I should've refused, but the words died on my tongue. He had helped me twice now. And truth be told, the idea of standing alone in this hall, with whispers crawling under my skin, felt unbearable.
So I nodded, barely, the motion betraying me. "Alright." "Perfect," he murmured, satisfaction flashing in his eyes as his hand slid away. He straightened, then glanced toward the group of women whose mocking still buzzed in the air. Without hesitation, he walked toward them, pulling me along effortlessly. The girls stilled as his shadow fell over them, their painted smiles faltering.
"Ah, ladies," he said smoothly, voice laced with sarcasm, "I didn't realize the gala also invited background noise tonight."
A ripple of silence from nearby guests. The girls flushed; their smug expressions vanished. One stammered, "We were just—" "Just proving how irrelevant you are?" His brow arched, deadly elegant. "Because that is something you've already accomplished." I swallowed hard, heat crawling up my neck as the tension crackled. His words weren't loud, but sharp enough to silence the room around us. My heart hammered because, for once, their laughter wasn't at me.
His hand found the curve of my back again, possessive, guiding me away. He leaned close enough for only me to hear. "Stay with me tonight, Ella. They won't dare whisper again." Cameron didn't leave my side after that; his hand was a constant at the small of my back, guiding me with an ease that felt almost rehearsed. We settled near the corner where the soft glow of the chandelier spilled golden light over the crowd. He plucked a champagne flute from a passing tray before I could, pressing it lightly into my hand. "Have some drink, Miss Ella, you seemed distracted earlier." "Careful," he murmured, eyes glinting. "I don't think this gown deserves another clumsy stain."
My lips parted in protest, but his smirk told me he was baiting me."You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I accused softly, wrapping my fingers around the glass.
"Immensely," he said without hesitation, taking his drink. "Well, I didn't introduce, did I? " Oh no, you didn't," I managed to say,y "Mr. Cameron, Son of Mr. Wills, right?", sipping a drink.
"Yeah, Son of the host of this Gala." I nodded, "Myself Ella, the new contract model for the company. It was pleasant meeting you." He smiled as he drank his drink, amber liquid disappearing into his mouth.
I could feel it, the weight of his gaze. It never strayed, not once, even as the crowd shifted, even as familiar names brushed past him, hoping to be acknowledged. My pulse stumbled. Why was he looking at me like that? Was something wrong? Panic fluttered in my chest, clawing up my throat. My mind raced in a thousand directions at once. Was my minimal-bold mix of makeup not right for tonight? Did my lipstick smudge when I drank? Or worse—was there something on my face?
My hand twitched, tempted to touch my cheek, but I stopped myself. Instead, I swallowed the lump in my throat and finally forced the question out. "Is… is something on my face?" I whispered, mortified at how small my voice sounded. "Is my makeup not alright? Or my lipstick-" He leaned back slightly, brows lifting, and for a moment, I wished the ground would just open and swallow me whole. Then he smirked. His voice was low, steady, and deliberate."Yeah. Beauty."
My breath caught."What?" His eyes darkened, drinking me in my reflection. "That's what's on your face, Ella. Beauty." I stared at him, my heart a frantic mess against my ribs. The sarcasm he'd used earlier was gone. This was something else entirely, something far more dangerous.
"Blink… blink… blink." I couldn't stop myself, my lashes fluttering as if that would reset my brain after his words. Since my brain exp. Stopped working. He chuckled low in his chest, and I smacked his arm lightly. "Ya! You scared me, ge,ez don't say things like that out of nowhere."
His grin widened, boyish yet sharp. Before I could recover, a voice from behind interrupted. "Cameron, MR. Will's is calling you." The warmth in my chest turned to ice. Cameron didn't let go of me; instead, his fingers tightened at my wrist. "Come with me." I blinked again, this time from panic. "Wait—me?" "Yes, you, after all, you are my date for the night." His tone left no room for argument. Effortlessly, he dragged me through the crowd, his tall frame cutting a path that swallowed me whole in his shadow.
And then I saw him, my body froze, breath snagging mid-throat. Cameron's arm snaked casually around my waist as if I already belonged there, tucked against him like his prize. My spine stiffened, but he didn't notice that his confidence was untouchable as he led me forward.
"Father," he greeted smoothly, voice steady, "there's someone I'd like you to meet tonight." But my eyes weren't on his father. They were on him.
Sylus.
Up close, he was more sini,ster no, better. Dangerous enough to burn straight through me. The black tuxedo sculpted his broad shoulders like it had been sewn onto his skin, his tie loosened just enough to whisper rebellion against the pristine crowd. His hand, large and veined, gripped a wine glass carelessly, though his fingers looked as if they could snap its stem in half without effort.
And then there were the tattoos. Black ink, sinful patterns crawling down the skin revealed by his cuff, glimpses of a story written in violence and hunger. My breath caught—because I shouldn't have looked, but I couldn't tear away. Cameron was saying something, introducing me as though I were his, shaking Sylus's hand with practiced ease. I barely registered the words. My body was frozen, my thoughts unraveling.
What was he doing here? Was he also representing an investor tonight? A business tie to Cameron's family? My throat tightened the gala suddenly felt too small. Too exposed. And Sylus, he hadn't looked away once. His gaze anchored to me, heavy, unblinking, a silent warning in the chaos of champagne laughter and clinking glasses.
Sylus's POV~
There she was.
The room dulled the second I saw her; every glittering chandelier, every sparkling gown, every meaningless laugh drowned in silence. Only she remained. Eternal. Untouchable. That dress clung to her like it had been woven by sin itself, every line of her body carved into my memory with the cruelty of a blade.
And yet, I melted. My chest burned with something I hadn't felt in years, something soft, almost reverent. She was mine. Every part of her, even if she didn't know it yet.
Then his arm sank around her waist. Cameron. Smug, careless, acting like she belonged tucked against him. And she didn't pull away. My jaw locked so tight it ached.Murder was the only thought that pulsed through me. The urge to snap his wrist, to rip that entitled touch off her skin, to stain this perfect gala in blood.
Why the fuck does everyone think they can touch what's mine?First Asher. Now this bastard.
I could feel the wine glass in my hand tremble under my grip. If I pressed harder, the stem would shatter, slicing through my palm, but it would still hurt less than the sight of her standing there with him.
Fuck. If I could, I'd erase him from the face of the earth. Make the crowd forget he ever existed. Leave her standing with no one but me, where she belongs.'
My gaze locked onto hers across the space, and I swear the world stilled. She looked shaken, confused, like she didn't know why I was here.But I did. I was Shadow, who would be with her till eternity.
Cameron extended his hand with that arrogant ease of someone who's never been told no."Mr. Morano," he greeted, voice sharp with courtesy. I took his hand. Firm. Controlled. Every inch of me screamed to break his fingers one by one, but I didn't. Not here. Not yet." Mr.Cameron Wills," I replied smoothly, my voice carrying just enough edge to draw a flicker of unease in his eyes.
Then I let my gaze fall slowly, deliberately, to the girl at his side. Her.
My chest tightened. My Ella. Standing too close to him, his hand still possessively at her waist as if he had the right. My blood seared hotter with every heartbeat. "And who," I asked, my tone low and deceptively casual, "is this standing beside you?"
Cameron smirked, the kind of smirk that begged to be wiped clean with blood. "She's my date for the night." He said it easily, like it cost him nothing, like he didn't just sign his death sentence. "Ella."
Ella. My Ella.
The name on his lips was a desecration. My eyes locked with hers, and the air shifted. Gone was the polite mask I let her see it. The storm. The rage. The hunger that had been caged too long. She froze under my stare, her lips parting, breath quickening as if she could feel the claim I'd just carved into her.
The room was loud around us, but between us silence. Tension so thick it could choke. I tilted my head slightly, never breaking her gaze, my words dragging like a blade across stone."Interesting."
Ella's Pov~
The tension was sickening. "Morano? Hold up what-" The name rattled inside my head, louder than the chatter of the gala. A polite smile curved my lips, but it was hollow. "Excuse me," I managed, voice too thin, and turned quickly, desperate for air. I nearly collided with a waiter balancing a tray of champagne, but Cameron's arm shot out, yanking me back. My back hit his chest, and I gasped, the impact pressing me flush against him.
"Are you alright?" His voice was low, concerned, but I could barely hear him over the pounding in my ears. My breath came fast, shallow, anxiety burning my throat. "Y-yes… thank you. I'll be back shortly," I can feel the stares on me.
I didn't wait for his reply. My heels carried me swiftly across the floor, weaving through glittering gowns and black suits until I found the balcony. The night air wrapped around me as I stepped outside, finally free from the suffocating crowd. The moonlight spilled silver across the city, enchanting and cruelly beautiful. My chest rose and fell as I leaned against the railing, clutching at the cool marble like it could steady me. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone, pressing play on a playlist.
Soft music hummed against my ears, a lullaby for a frantic heart. I closed my eyes, swaying lightly, lips parting as I whispered the melody under my breath. Slowly, the panic seeped out of me.
His gaze. That word. Interesting. It echoed in my skull, relentless. No matter how I tried to push it away, Sylus stayed, carved into my every thought. A sigh slipped past my lips. My voice grew stronger as I sang softly to the tune, my body swaying with the rhythm.
"Moth to a flame" the music wrapped me, but hit me more like reality,
yes, that's what I was. Drawn to something that would ruin me.
The balcony door creaked. I froze. He stepped out, the man haunting me. Sylus.
But not the polished version I'd seen inside. No, this was dangerous. His tuxedo jacket hung open, one of the top buttons of his shirt undone, exposing the strong line of his throat and a whisper of ink that trailed downward on his right hand. His hair was slightly undone, like he'd run his hands through it one too many times. A glass of wine dangled carelessly in his hand, crimson liquid catching the moonlight.
Disheveled. Sin incarnate. And his eyes found me instantly, pinning me in place. I couldn't move. The music still hummed faintly from my phone, but it was drowned out by the sound of my pulse.
Sylus took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving me. Then, with that voice that wrapped around me like smoke, he spoke."Running away doesn't suit you." My throat tensed. I forced a shaky laugh. "I wasn't running. I just needed… air." He tilted his head, eyes sharp, reading through me like glass. "Air. Or distance?" I swallowed. "Does it matter?"
"Yes." His answer was immediate, firm, like a knife pressed against my skin. He stepped closer, the soft scrape of his shoes against stone echoing in the night. "Because if it's distance you wanted, Ella… you shouldn't have let him put his hands on you."
Heat surged in my cheeks. My words stumbled out before I could stop them. "That's none of your business." His lips curved into something dark. He set his glass down on the railing with a soft clink and leaned forward slightly, every inch of him sin etched in moonlight."Everything about you is my business."
A shiver ran down my spine. He casually walked and draped over railings, cool breeze passing us.
"You don't even know me," I whispered, trying to steady my voice.
"I know enough." His eyes raked over me, slow and devastating. "Enough to see through the little mask you wear. Enough to know you don't belong to their world… and enough to know you'll never belong to him." My breath caught. His words burned through me, brutal and raw.
I forced myself to look up at him, to fight the tremor in my voice. "You talk like you already own me." Sylus's smirk deepened, eyes gleaming under the moonlight. He just looked at me moon moonlight dancing around us, music still going on in the Background, that atmosphere was making my heartbeat fast, he looked mesmerized, how the moonlight highlighted his features. He pulled out keys from his pocket, his voice calm and confident,
"Wanna go for a bike ride?"