The crash of porcelain broke through the ballroom's soothing music.
Elena froze, staring at the dark red wine spreading across the marble floor like a pool of blood. A fellow server muttered apologies, trying to help gather the shards, but Elena's hands trembled as she bent down to clear the mess
She wasn't even supposed to be here. One night, that was the deal. Cover a shift, serve drinks, and walk away with enough tips to pay her overdue rent. She had promised herself she would stay invisible.
And then she ruined a thousand-dollar bottle of wine in front of half the city's richest people.
Heat climbed her neck as she reached for the glass, desperate to fix what she had broken.
"Careful," a voice said.
She froze, again.
It wasn't loud, but it carried over the music, steady and smooth. She looked up, and her breath caught.
Alexander King.
He didn't need an introduction. Everyone in the city knew him. His face filled business magazines, his name moved markets. The kind of man who seemed too far above ordinary people to ever notice them.
And now his dark eyes were fixed on her.
Elena rose to her feet, brushing her palms on her plain black dress. She felt small in the sea of glittering gowns and diamonds. His gaze didn't waver.
"I'm sorry," she blurted, words tumbling out. "I didn't mean to—"
"You shouldn't touch broken glass with bare hands," he said simply.
His tone wasn't cruel. If anything, it was calm, almost matter-of-fact. But something about the way he watched her made her chest tighten. Like he wasn't just looking at a clumsy server.
Like he was studying her.
"I'll pay for it," she whispered. She regretted it the moment the words came out but she couldn't take them back now.
One corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "You couldn't afford it."
Her cheeks burned hotter. She wanted to be angry at his bluntness, but the words weren't mocking. They were just…true.
She lowered her gaze, wishing she could melt into the marble. If she stayed quiet, maybe the moment would pass. Maybe he'd turn back to his world of champagne and power.
But instead, he leaned slightly closer. His voice dropped. "What's your name?"
Elena hesitated. "Why?"
"Because I like to know who stands in front of me."
Her heart thumped. She should have lied, but his eyes held hers, steady and unblinking.
"Elena," she whispered.
"Hmm." His gaze lingered on her face for a moment longer than it should have. Then, just as suddenly, he straightened. The calm mask slid back into place.
A man in a dark suit appeared at his side, murmuring something too low for her to catch. Alexander gave a short nod, but his eyes, his unreadable, searching eyes, didn't leave hers until the very last second.
"Elena," he repeated softly, as if testing the sound. Then he turned, walking away into the sea of glitter and light.
The crowd swallowed him, but the weight of his attention stayed pressed against her chest.
She stood frozen, palms damp, heart racing. It was just a brief moment. But it felt like she had been marked somehow.