Chapter 1
Elena's POV
The glittering ballroom was a world away from the cramped apartment where I once dreamt of a future with Damon Blackwood.
Two years ago, I would have stood in the shadows, smoothing the wrinkles from a borrowed dress and praying no one noticed me. Tonight, I was unrecognizable.
I'd spent weeks perfecting the subtle changes to my appearance. My once blonde hair had deepened into a rich dark brown, the waves that once framed my face now vanished, leaving only a sleek, straight fall. My makeup was sharper and I wore the kind of couture gown I used to dream of designing.
The woman staring back from the mirror earlier tonight wasn't Aria Marie, Damon Blackwood's naïve secretary and lover.
She was someone else entirely, confident, untouchable, and ready to destroy him.
I adjusted the diamond bracelet at my wrist, one of the many pieces I'd acquired since reinventing myself and scanned the crowd. I'd timed my arrival perfectly, slipping in just after the first round of speeches. Enough to be noticed, but not questioned.
My breath caught immediately when I saw him.
He stood near the grand staircase, surrounded by men in tuxedos and women who hung on his every word.
Taller than I remembered, he was broader, his tailored black suit molded to his body like it had been stitched by the gods themselves.
He looked exactly the same and completely different all at once.
Two years hadn't dulled him, they had sharpened him. His dark hair was shorter now, his jawline harder, his expression colder. Power radiated from him, commanding the entire room without effort.
Beneath the ruthless exterior, I caught glimpses of the man I'd once loved, the man who used to laugh with me over takeout and late-night dreams.
I moved through the crowd, every movement calculated. My heels clicked softly against the marble, my gown whispering around me like smoke. Heads turned as I passed, but I didn't slow. I'd taught myself how to command attention, how to wield beauty like a weapon.
When Damon's eyes finally landed on me, he looked taken aback. He froze mid sentence, his glass of champagne suspended halfway to his lips.
Our gazes locked across the room, and for a heartbeat, the noise around me faded. His eyes, the piercing gray eyes I once drowned in widened, and something raw flickered across his face.
I'd counted on that, two years and subtle changes were enough to knock him off his feet. Damon Blackwood might be one of the most dangerous men in New York, but even he couldn't be so sure about me.
I tilted my head slightly, offering the smallest, most enigmatic smile before turning away.
It worked because immediately I heard the sudden shift in the crowd as he excused himself from his circle and began moving toward me. My pulse kicked up, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I drifted toward the far side of the ballroom, deliberately making him chase me.
At the edge of the room, near a towering arrangement of white orchids, I stopped and lifted a flute of champagne from a passing tray. My fingers were steady, even though inside, my heart was a storm.
I sipped delicately, pretending I hadn't noticed the man stalking toward me.
"Excuse me," a deep, familiar voice said behind me.
I turned slowly, every movement controlled.
There he was, close enough now that I could see the faint crease between his brows, the muscle ticking in his jaw.
Up close, he was devastating. More handsome than my memories allowed, but sharper too, like a blade honed by two years of loss and rage.
"You…" His voice faltered, rougher than I'd expected. He cleared his throat, recovering quickly. "Forgive me, but… have we met before?"
I let my lips curve into a polite, practiced smile. "I don't believe so." My voice was smooth, foreign even to my own ears. It wasn't the voice I used to whisper love to him with. This was the voice of a stranger.
Damon studied me intently, his gaze tracing every detail of my face. "You look… familiar," he said, almost to himself.
"People often say that," I replied lightly, taking another sip of champagne. "I must have one of those faces."
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I saw the man beneath the suit, the Damon who had once looked at me like I was his whole world.
My chest tightened, but I forced the feeling down.Don't you dare feel anything for him, I reminded myself, Not anymore.
"And you are?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual.
I let a pause stretch between us, savoring the tension. Then, with a small, knowing smile, I said, "Elena."
His reaction was subtle but unmistakable, a sharp intake of breath, a flicker of pain before he masked it beneath a smooth, unreadable expression.
"Elena," he repeated, tasting my name like it was both poison and salvation.
The corner of my mouth lifted. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Blackwood."
For a moment, he simply stared at me, as if trying to piece together the puzzle of my presence. Then, to my surprise, he laughed a dark, disbelieving sound.
"You have no idea," he murmured, almost to himself.
I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. "Pardon?"
His gaze snapped back to mine, sharp and focused. "It's nothing," he said smoothly.
Then, after a beat, "May I buy you a drink?"
I glanced at the champagne flute in my hand. "It seems I already have one."
He smirked, that infuriatingly confident expression I knew too well. "Then perhaps I can offer you something stronger."
I considered him for a long moment, then nodded. "Why not?"
As he led me toward the private bar area, I allowed myself a small, private victory. Two years ago, I'd fled this man, broken
and betrayed. Tonight, I was back not as his secretary nor his lover but as his equal, his enemy.
He didn't know it yet, but Damon Blackwood had just walked into my trap.