The night sky draped the city in velvet, but inside the Grand Orpheum Hotel it was brighter than day.
Crystal chandeliers spilled light across marble floors. A string quartet whispered above the low hum of conversation, and the air smelled of champagne and ambition.
Ava Hart stood at the edge of the ballroom, clutching a black clutch like a lifeline. Her ivory gown hugged her waist—simple, graceful, perfect enough to blend in, quiet enough not to compete.
Natalie's words echoed in her mind. "Mr. Lucan would like you to observe the design of the event."
Observe. That was all she'd been told.
But as she scanned the room, Ava realized this wasn't a simple corporate gathering. It was a showcase—every inch of the space radiated precision, wealth, and hierarchy. The Lucan logo shimmered above the stage like a crown. Investors and board members clustered at the front. Photographers adjusted lenses on the left. And at the center, a single empty seat carved of dark wood and silver: Ethan Lucan's.
Ava exhaled softly. So this is his kingdom.
"Ms. Hart."
Natalie appeared beside her, calm as ever. "He'll make his entrance in five minutes. Stay near the back."
"Why?" Ava asked.
Natalie smiled faintly. "Because surprises are easier to watch from a distance."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's not meant to be." She glanced toward the stage. "He doesn't attend galas unless there's something to win."
"And what's he winning tonight?"
Before Natalie could answer, the room fell silent.
The doors at the top of the grand staircase opened, and Ethan Lucan walked in.
He didn't need an announcement. Presence alone did it—tall, composed, tuxedo cut with surgical precision. People parted instinctively as he moved. Even the orchestra softened its tempo, like the room itself had taken a breath.
Ava felt it too, the shift in air pressure, the way her pulse stuttered. He didn't look at her. He didn't need to. The gravity around him made her aware of every step he took.
When he reached the stage, polite applause rippled through the crowd. Ethan waited for silence before speaking.
"Thank you for being here tonight," he began, voice low and smooth. "Lucan Corporation has always stood for innovation, precision, and vision. But vision means nothing without people who see differently."
He paused—and in that pause, Ava's stomach knotted.
Then her name lit up the screen behind him.
AVA HART – Visionary Designer of the Lucan Expansion Project
The applause that followed wasn't polite. It was shocked. Cameras flashed. Someone whispered, "Who is she?"
Ava's heart slammed against her ribs.
"What… what is he doing?" she breathed.
Natalie's expression didn't change. "Announcing you."
"He can't. I'm not—" Ava stumbled. "I'm not management!"
"Apparently," Natalie said softly, "you are now."
Up on stage, Ethan continued as if he hadn't just detonated a bomb.
"Miss Hart," he said, turning his gaze directly toward her, "is the creative force behind our upcoming transformation—a new era for Lucan Corporation. She embodies the future of our design and innovation division."
The spotlight swung. It found her.
Ava froze as hundreds of eyes pinned her in place. The whispering grew louder. "Who is she?" "When did this happen?" "He never hires outsiders."
"Please," Ethan said, extending one hand, "join me."
Her legs moved before her mind caught up. Each step felt like walking straight into a trap she could see but couldn't avoid.
When she reached the stage, Ethan offered his hand—formal, public, untouchable. She placed hers in it because refusing would've been worse. The contact lasted less than a second, but the heat of it lingered.
"Mr. Lucan, I—" she began quietly, smile tight.
He didn't look at her. His tone stayed soft, meant for her alone.
"Smile, Miss Hart. They're deciding whether you belong here."
Her lips curved automatically even as she hissed under her breath, "You blindsided me."
"That's business," he murmured. "Adapt, or get buried."
A clear female voice sliced through the applause.
"Ethan."
The crowd parted as Vanessa Grant stepped forward—red gown, flawless posture, diamond smile. The tabloids called her Lucan's fiancée.
"I wasn't aware you'd hired a new designer," Vanessa said sweetly, eyes cutting toward Ava. "Or that she warranted a public introduction."
Ethan's expression didn't flicker. "Now you are."
Whispers rippled again. Vanessa's smile hardened. "You might have consulted your board first."
"I don't recall needing permission to recognize talent," he replied, tone calm enough to sting. "Unless you're volunteering to handle my creative division yourself?"
Vanessa's jaw tightened. "Of course not. I just hope your… talent understands the attention she's inviting."
Ava held her ground, though every instinct told her to shrink. "I'm just here to do my job, Ms. Grant."
"Of course you are," Vanessa said, voice velvet and poison. She turned away, leaving perfume and tension behind.
Ethan stepped closer to the microphone.
"If anyone questions her position," he said evenly, "they question me."
Silence dropped. Cameras clicked like distant thunder.
Then he glanced sideways, barely a movement, but enough for Ava to see the faint curve of a smile that wasn't warmth—it was control.
The orchestra swelled again, applause returning on command. The audience obeyed the shift in rhythm as if he'd conducted it himself.
Ava stood still beside him, caught between fury and awe. From the outside, she looked composed. Inside, her thoughts were racing.
He didn't introduce a designer.
He introduced a weapon.
After the speeches, Ethan led her offstage through a side corridor lined with mirrors. The sound of applause faded behind them.
"You used me," she said quietly.
He slipped his hands into his pockets. "I positioned you."
"For what?"
"For credibility. For leverage. For both of us."
"That's not positioning. That's manipulation."
He stopped walking. "And yet, it worked."
Her voice dropped. "You made me the face of something I didn't agree to."
He looked at her reflection in the mirror, not directly at her.
"You wanted a chance to prove yourself. Now you have the whole city watching."
"That's not the same."
"No," he said softly. "It's better."
For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them vibrated with everything unspoken: power, anger, fascination.
Finally, he said, "Tomorrow morning, we start phase one. Don't be late."
When Ava left the gala, the night air felt colder.
Reporters were already waiting by the hotel doors. Flashbulbs exploded, voices shouted her name.
"Ms. Hart! Are you replacing the current design lead?"
"Are you engaged to Mr. Lucan?"
"Smile for the camera!"
She didn't. She walked past them, chin high, pulse loud.
Inside the limousine, her reflection stared back at her in the dark window. The city glittered like a trap.
She whispered to herself, almost laughing.
"Congratulations, Ava. You just became the headline in a game you don't even understand."
High above, in the penthouse office overlooking the same city, Ethan Lucan stood before the glass wall, watching the lights move below. Natalie entered quietly.
"You made her the center of attention," she said. "The board will demand an explanation."
"They'll get results," Ethan replied.
"And Miss Hart?"
He took a sip of whiskey, eyes still on the skyline.
"She thinks she's been used," he murmured. "Good. Anger sharpens talent."
Natalie hesitated. "And if she walks away?"
Ethan finally turned, his expression unreadable.
"She won't."
Outside, the storm clouds rolled closer, and the first flash of lightning lit the sky.
To be continued…