Aurora – POV
"Pack what you need," I told Maya softly. "Clothes. Essentials. Just enough for now."
She blinked at me from across the room, her oversized hoodie swallowing her frame. "Are we... moving?"
"Temporarily."
"To where?"
I hesitated. "A nicer place. Safer."
Her eyes narrowed, all sixteen-year-old suspicion. "Aurora, did you rob a bank?"
Percy, sprawled on my bed, snorted. "Worse. She bagged herself a billionaire."
"Percy," I hissed.
"What? You're moving into a penthouse with a black card. That man isn't just buying dinner, babe-he's buying your zip code."
I ignored her and started folding clothes into a duffel. "It's temporary. That's all you need to know."
Maya's voice softened. "Are we safe?"
I froze, then met her gaze. "Yes. I'd never take you anywhere unsafe."
She nodded once. "Okay. But I'm bringing my BTS poster. No rich guy's gonna stop that."
Percy cackled. "Iconic."
-
The black luxury car arrived just after sunset, sleek and predatory beneath the streetlights. The driver stepped out in a charcoal suit, opening the door with a silent nod.
It felt surreal-like stepping into a life that wasn't mine. One I hadn't earned. One I didn't even recognize.
We drove through the city's glowing heart, past places I'd only ever seen on magazine covers.
When we reached Wolfe Heights, it didn't just scream money. It whispered power.
A woman in a tailored gray suit stood waiting outside, posture flawless. "Miss Grey, I'm Camille," she said smoothly, ushering us into a private elevator that required a fingerprint scan.
Of course it did.
"I've prepared the residence for your comfort," Camille added. "Mr. Wolfe prefers his guests to feel at home."
"Guests," I echoed under my breath.
The elevator doors slid open-straight into another world.
The penthouse was all sharp glass and shadows, windows stretching floor-to-ceiling, the city glittering beneath us like it bowed to this place.
Maya gasped. "Aurora... is this heaven?"
"Feels like a movie set," Percy muttered. "God, even the air smells expensive."
We barely had time to breathe it in before the doorbell chimed.
My stomach dropped.
Camille opened the door.
And he walked in.
Ace Wolfe. Black suit, black gaze. A presence that bent the room around him.
Maya straightened. Percy froze mid-smirk.
He didn't speak at first. His eyes swept the space. Us. Then he moved-calm, lethal grace.
Percy stepped forward, flashing her brightest smile. "Hi-"
He brushed past her like she was nothing more than furniture.
Cold. Calculated.
My mouth parted, stunned.
He stopped in front of Maya. Bent slightly, his storm-grey eyes softening just a fraction. "You must be her sister."
Maya blinked, cheeks flushed. "You're... very handsome."
A rare, fleeting smile touched his lips. "Thank you."
And then it was gone.
His attention shifted back to me. Behind him stood two others I hadn't noticed before-a towering man with arms like tree trunks, and a poised woman in her late thirties dressed in black.
"This is Donovan, your security," Ace said. "And Mariel, your housekeeper."
"They report to you?" I asked.
"No." His eyes held mine. "They report to you."
The words landed heavy. A message beneath the message.
You're in this now. Own it.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a slim black envelope, placing it in my hand.
"Your gala invitation."
My breath caught. "The Gala?"
"Arcadia," he said smoothly. "Next week. Every name that matters will be there." His gaze lingered, unreadable. "Get ready-we're having dinner out tonight."
I nodded, but when I tried to step past him, his hand closed over mine-fingers brushing the envelope still between us.
The touch was deliberate. Electric.
Heat shot up my arm, and I froze. His skin was steady, cool, while my pulse raced like it was trying to break free.
Ace leaned in, his mouth near my ear, his voice low enough that no one else could hear:
"Don't make the mistake of thinking this is just business, Aurora. When you stand beside me, the world will believe you belong to me. And the truth is-" his thumb dragged slowly along my wrist, possessive, claiming, "-you already do. One more thing..." His tone sharpened. "I don't share what's mine."
My breath hitched. The skyline blurred behind him, the room tilting as if the world itself shifted under his words.
I yanked my hand back, but not before his eyes caught mine-storm-grey, unreadable, and terrifyingly certain. Like he'd already made me his.
"Dinner. Eight o'clock," he said, stepping back into his usual cool command. "Don't be late."
Then he was gone, leaving me trembling, clutching the envelope like it might steady me, while the ghost of his touch still burned against my skin.