The city was alive with glitter and light that Friday night. Elena hadn't planned on attending the charity gala—events like these belonged to Adrian's world, not hers. But when he called, his voice carrying both persuasion and longing, she found herself saying yes.
Now, standing at the grand entrance of the ballroom, she wasn't sure if she'd made a mistake.
Crystal chandeliers shimmered above, scattering light across polished marble floors. Waiters glided past with silver trays, laughter and murmured conversations rising and falling like music. The entire place exuded power and wealth.
And then there was Adrian.
He crossed the room toward her, a vision in a perfectly tailored black suit, bowtie sharp, confidence radiating from every stride. But the moment his eyes locked on hers, all that polished poise slipped into something softer.
For a man who ruled boardrooms, who commanded empires, he looked almost undone just by her presence.
"Elena."
Her name rolled off his lips like silk, intimate even in a room filled with hundreds. He offered his arm, and she slipped her hand through, trying to ignore the rush of warmth the contact stirred.
"You're breathtaking," he said as they moved deeper into the ballroom.
She managed a laugh. "You should see me when I'm not dressed up. You'd think twice."
"Never." His tone was absolute, no room for argument.
Dinner was a blur. The speeches, the polite laughter, the endless stream of faces introducing themselves—all of it faded because Adrian's hand never strayed far from hers. Under the table, his fingers brushed hers like a secret no one else could see.
But not everyone in the room was blind.
She caught the sharp eyes of women watching them, their whispers masked by clinking glasses. Businessmen nodded at Adrian, then let their gazes flicker toward her with thinly veiled curiosity.
It was a reminder: she didn't belong here. Not in this world of silk gowns and million-dollar smiles.
"Stop overthinking," Adrian murmured, as if reading her thoughts. His hand tightened gently around hers. "They don't matter. Only you do."
Her chest constricted. If only it were that simple.
Later, the music began, sweeping through the ballroom in a wave of violins and piano. Adrian stood, holding out his hand.
"Dance with me."
Elena hesitated. "Adrian, I'm not—"
"Perfect?" His lips curved. "Neither am I."
She wanted to protest, but his gaze left her powerless. So she let him lead her to the floor.
The moment his hand settled against her waist, the world blurred. His touch was firm, steady, guiding her with an ease that belied the chaos inside her. Their steps moved in rhythm, but it was their hearts that seemed most in sync, beating too fast, too close.
"You fit," he whispered against her ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine.
She swallowed hard. "We don't."
"Then why does it feel like we do?"
She didn't answer, couldn't. Because the truth was dangerous—because the truth was yes, they did fit, perfectly, terrifyingly.
The song slowed, and Adrian's hand lingered just a fraction lower, pulling her closer, his cheek brushing hers. Elena's pulse raced. She closed her eyes, surrendering for just one stolen moment.
And then—
"Elena?"
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her name. A voice she hadn't expected, one that pulled her violently back into the past.
She turned—and froze.
Standing a few feet away, holding a glass of champagne, was Daniel.
Her Daniel.
The man who had once promised her forever. The man who had walked away.
Her stomach dropped. The music, the laughter, the glittering lights—everything dimmed until only his face remained, sharp with surprise, disbelief, and something else she couldn't name.
Adrian felt her stiffen. His hand tightened around her waist protectively, his jaw hardening as his gaze followed hers.
"Elena," Adrian murmured, low and steady. "Who is he?"
But she couldn't speak. Not yet.
Because the past she had buried so carefully had just walked straight into her present.
And it was about to change everything.