The chandelier above sparkled like a thousand frozen stars, each crystal catching the golden glow of the ballroom. Music swelled, laughter echoed, champagne fizzed like liquid gold. The air itself seemed perfumed with wealth.
Riley Levine stood at the edge of it all, gripping a borrowed clutch with trembling hands. Her dress wasn't hers. The sequins scratched her skin, a size too tight in the hips. The lipstick on her mouth had been applied in the bathroom of a diner across town. She didn't belong here. She knew it, felt it in the marrow of her bones but tonight wasn't about belonging.
Tonight was about pretending.
For just one night, she wanted to slip into a world that wasn't hers. A world of privilege and glittering chandeliers, where women wore gowns worth more than her family's annual rent.
Her gaze flicked to the crowd. CEOs, politicians, heiresses, all brushing shoulders as if the world itself bent for them.
And then she saw him.
Damian Blackwood.
Riley's chest squeezed. Her heart skipped like it wanted to escape. She knew of him who didn't? The ruthless billionaire. The Blackwood heir. Men feared him. Women dreamed of him.
He was taller than she expected, broad-shouldered in a tailored black suit that fit like it had been stitched onto his body. His storm gray eyes scanned the crowd with detached boredom, a king surveying subjects he had already conquered. His jaw was sharp, his expression unreadable, carved from something harder than stone.
Everyone noticed him. Women watched him with hunger. Men with wariness. Even the servers seemed to adjust their pace when he passed, as though afraid to draw his attention.
And then those eyes, cold, calculating, beautiful, landed on her.
Riley froze.
Heat flooded her chest, though she told herself it was just nerves. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be looking at him. And he definitely shouldn't be looking at her.
But he was.
Damian began moving through the crowd, every step deliberate, his gaze never wavering. People parted instinctively, clearing a path as though some unspoken law demanded it.
Her pulse quickened. Run, Riley. But her feet refused to move.
When he stopped in front of her, the room seemed to fall away.
"You don't belong here." His voice was low, smooth, dangerous.
Riley lifted her chin, fighting the tremor in her chest. "And you do? You look bored out of your mind."
For the first time that night, his lips curved into something that might have been a smile. Wicked. Amused. Dangerous.
"Dance with me," he said.
It wasn't a request. It was a command.
Her heart stuttered. "I don't think…"
But he had already taken her hand, guiding her onto the dance floor with unnerving ease. The orchestra swelled, violins filling the silence between them.
His palm settled at the small of her back, firm and possessive. His other hand clasped hers, rough warmth against her trembling fingers.
"You're shaking," Damian observed, his breath brushing her ear.
"It's the heels," she lied.
"No," he murmured, spinning her effortlessly. "It's me."
Her cheeks flamed. "You're awfully sure of yourself."
"Confidence and arrogance," he said smoothly, his gaze locking on hers. "There's a difference."
"Not much of one," she muttered, though her body betrayed her, leaning closer.
He smirked, eyes glinting. "You're not like them."
"Them?"
"The women here," Damian said, his tone laced with disdain. "They smile too wide. They laugh too loud. They want too much. But you…" His eyes softened, just barely. "You're real…I want you"
Her breath caught. She wanted to pull away, to remind him she was nobody, just a girl who didn't belong. But his gaze pinned her in place, making her feel seen in a way that terrified her.
And then, without warning, his mouth brushed hers.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't tentative. It was a kiss that claimed, demanding everything in an instant. Her clutch nearly slipped from her hands. Gasps rippled through the dance floor, but Riley barely heard them.
When he finally pulled back, her lips tingled, her chest heaving.
"What the hell was that?" she whispered.
"A mistake," he said, though the hunger in his eyes contradicted the word. He pulled her off the dance floor, ignoring the stares, and led her toward the balcony.
_______________________________
The night air was cool, sharp with the scent of city lights. Riley wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her racing heart.
"You shouldn't have done that," she said.
"Probably not." He leaned against the railing, his gaze devouring her. "But I don't regret it."
She swallowed hard. "I don't belong here."
"I know." He pushed off the railing, closing the distance. "That's why I can't stop looking at you."
Her pulse thudded painfully. "Sir…"
"Damian", He corrected, "Don't act like you don't know me."
"Damian, this is crazy."
"Life is crazy," he said softly, tilting her chin up. "But this…" his lips brushed hers again, gentler this time, lingering…"this feels inevitable."
Her defenses crumbled. When he kissed her again, she kissed him back, reckless and desperate, her hands fisting in his jacket.
Minutes later, she wasn't sure how it happened. All she knew was that he was leading her upstairs, down a quiet hallway, to a door that opened with a soft click.
The suite was opulent, bathed in warm light, every detail shouting wealth. But Riley barely noticed. All she saw was him.
The door closed behind them.
"You're staring," he murmured.
"Of course I am," she whispered. "People like me don't see rooms like this every day."
"People like you?" His eyes narrowed.
She swallowed. "Forget it."
He caged her against the wall, his hand braced beside her head. His scent surrounded her, dark and intoxicating.
"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice low, rough. "One word, and I walk away. But if you don't…" His gaze burned into hers. "…I'll ruin you for every other man."
Her heart thundered. She opened her mouth, ready to say stop. Ready to save herself.
But instead, she whispered, "I can't."
Damian's lips crushed hers.
The world dissolved into heat and hunger. His jacket hit the floor, her clutch forgotten. His hands traced every curve, reverent and possessive all at once.
"Damian," she gasped, trembling. "This is wrong."
"Nothing about this feels wrong," he growled, kissing the hollow of her throat. "Say no, and I'll stop."
Her head fell back, her voice breaking on a moan. "I can't stop wanting you."
"Good," he rasped, lifting her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed. "Because I've wanted you from the moment I saw you."
The sheets were cool beneath her, his warmth consuming her. His mouth claimed hers again, softer now, as if memorizing the shape of her surrender.
The night blurred into whispers, into the rasp of his name on her lips, into fire and loss of control. A collision of two worlds that should never have touched, yet fit too perfectly to resist.
By the time dawn painted the windows gold, Riley knew nothing would ever be the same.
Sunlight spilled across the suite. Riley stirred, heart full of something fragile, dangerous, almost hopeful.
Then she heard it.
Damian's voice, low and cold, from the adjoining room.
"She was nothing," he said, clipped, sharp. "Just a distraction for the night. Women always are, especially to warm beds."
The words slammed into her chest like a blade.
Her vision blurred. Her body went cold.
By the time Damian returned, the bed was empty. The sheets were cold. Riley was gone.
Weeks later, Riley sat in a shabby bathroom, clutching a pregnancy test with trembling hands. Two lines stared back at her.
Her knees buckled. Tears burned her eyes.
She had sworn never to see Damian Blackwood again. He was dangerous. He was heartless. He was a man who could break her beyond repair.
But fate had already decided otherwise.
Because inside her was the heir to the Blackwood empire.
And Damian could never find out