The chandeliers shimmered like frozen stars, scattering golden light across the vast ballroom of the Imperial Hotel. Every corner whispered of power—polished marble floors, the clink of champagne flutes, women draped in designer gowns, men in tailored suits worth more than an average family's yearly income.
This was the world of the elite. The world where Ivy Lane did not belong.
She moved carefully between tables, balancing a tray of champagne flutes in hands that trembled despite her effort to stay calm. Her uniform was simple and crisp, but here it made her feel invisible, like a servant wandering into Olympus.
"Keep your eyes open, Lane," her supervisor hissed as she passed. "If you mess this up, you're done."
Ivy pressed her lips together and nodded. Messing up wasn't an option. Not when her mother's hospital bills were overdue and the loan sharks had started circling. She had no safety net. She had no choice.
Taking a steadying breath, she turned toward the center of the hall—only for fate to strike its cruelest blow.
Her heel caught on the edge of the plush carpet. The tray wobbled. Time slowed, her gasp echoing in her ears as crystal glasses tilted, spilling golden liquid forward.
The champagne rained down onto a man standing in her path.
Her stomach dropped.
The liquid streaked down the lapels of his suit, dripping onto the polished shoes that probably cost more than her month's rent. He froze, lifting his head with a sharpness that cut like steel.
Gray eyes. Cold. Piercing. Eyes that saw through you, dissected you, judged you.
Her throat went dry. She had seen his face in magazines, on news channels, whispered about in every corner of the city.
Lucian Cross.
The billionaire no one dared offend. A man known for his ruthless efficiency, his icy temperament, his unforgiving nature. They said no one crossed him twice.
And she had just spilled champagne all over him.
"I—I'm so sorry, sir!" Ivy stammered, fumbling for a napkin. Her hands shook as she tried to dab at the wet fabric. "It was an accident—I didn't mean—"
His hand snapped around her wrist, halting her clumsy movements. His grip was firm, unyielding, not painful but enough to remind her that she was nothing compared to him.
The murmurs around them stilled. The entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath.
Lucian glanced at the ruined suit, then at her, his expression carved from ice. When he spoke, his voice was low, velvety, but laced with razor edges.
"Do you realize what this suit costs?"
The question wasn't real. It was a dagger meant to slice her pride.
Ivy's cheeks burned. "I'll pay for it," she blurted, even though she knew how ridiculous that sounded.
Lucian's lips curved in something like amusement, but there was no warmth, no kindness. Only disdain. "You?" His gaze traveled deliberately over her uniform, her trembling form. "You couldn't afford a button."
Laughter erupted from the crowd. A ripple of cruel delight at her humiliation.
Ivy's hands clenched around the napkin. She wanted to vanish into the floor. Her pride screamed at her to defend herself, but what defense did she have? She was nobody.
Lowering her gaze, she whispered, "I'm sorry."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched. Then Lucian leaned closer, his voice brushing her ear, smooth and lethal.
"Remember this," he murmured. "In my world, debts are always paid."
Then he released her wrist and walked away, leaving her standing in the center of the ballroom as whispers coiled around her like smoke.
---
Hours later, Ivy trudged home, exhaustion heavy in her limbs. The city lights blurred as she blinked back tears of humiliation. Her mother's hospital bills still loomed over her, her debts still chained her, and now she had offended the most powerful man in the city.
Her building loomed ahead, a shabby structure in a forgotten corner of the city. But something was wrong.
Two men leaned against the entrance, their dark suits rumpled, cigarettes glowing between their fingers. They straightened when they saw her, and her blood turned to ice.
"Lane?" one of them asked, his voice low and rough.
Her pulse spiked. She didn't answer. She didn't need to.
"You owe our boss a lot of money," the man sneered. "And your time's up."
Panic surged. "Please," Ivy begged, her voice trembling. "Just a little more time. My mother is sick—I just need—"
The man's hand shot out, gripping her arm in a bruising hold. "No more time, sweetheart. Pay, or you'll pay another way."
Terror clawed at her chest. She struggled, but his grip was iron.
"Let her go."
The voice sliced through the night like a command from a king.
The men stiffened. Ivy froze, her heart hammering as she turned her head.
From the shadows of a sleek black car, a figure emerged. Tall, broad-shouldered, wrapped in a tailored coat that caught the streetlight. His presence was undeniable, as though the air itself bent to him.
Lucian Cross.
Her stomach flipped.
The debt collectors faltered, their bravado wilting under his gaze. "Mr. Cross, we didn't know—"
"She's mine," Lucian said coldly, stepping closer. His eyes were sharp as blades. "Touch her again, and you'll regret it."
The men backed off instantly, muttering curses as they hurried away.
Ivy staggered, breathless, staring at him. "You—why are you here?"
Lucian stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the weight of his presence. The faint scent of his cologne wrapped around her—clean, expensive, dangerous.
"I told you debts must be paid," he said evenly. "And I always collect."
Her brows knit. "I don't understand—"
He slipped a sleek black card from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. She stared at the embossed letters, her fingers trembling.
"Come to my office tomorrow. Nine a.m. Don't be late."
Her throat worked. "Why?"
His lips curved into the faintest, cruelest smile. "Because, Miss Lane, you will repay me… as my wife."
The words struck like thunder.
"What?"
Lucian's gaze bore into hers, cold and unrelenting. "Marry me. One year. In exchange, I'll erase your debts and save your family. Refuse…" His tone dropped to a lethal softness. "And you'll lose everything."
The card in her hand felt heavier than chains. The night pressed down on her like a cage.
I
vy stared at him, her heart thundering, her world collapsing and rearranging all at once.
Marry me. Or lose everything.