I had been to more parties than I could count—grand staircases, crystal chandeliers, expensive laughter echoing through polished halls. Faces blurred together after a while. Women especially came and went without leaving a mark.
Until her.
She stood beneath the chandelier as if the light belonged to her. Melanin skin glowing warmly against the burgundy fabric that clung to her figure like it had been tailored with intention. Not loud. Not desperate. Just steady confidence.
The kind of beauty that didn't beg to be noticed—yet demanded it anyway.
My eyes followed her as she descended the staircase, every step measured and controlled. She lifted a hand to tuck a braid behind her ear, the motion effortless. In her other arm rested a stack of neatly organized files.
Files.
At a party like this?
A slow smile tugged at my lips. Whoever she was, she didn't belong to the usual crowd.
And that made her dangerous.
The soft clink of her earrings blended with the sharp click of her heels, a rhythm that cut through the noise of the room. I didn't care who noticed me staring. My focus had already narrowed, instinctive and unapologetic—the way a predator locks onto its prey without even trying.
Then she passed me.
The scent hit first.
Scandal.
Bold. Intoxicating. It wrapped around me and lingered, stirring something I hadn't felt in a long time—curiosity sharpened by desire. I wanted to know her name. Her story.
As if summoned by fate itself, she stumbled.
I moved without thinking, my hands closing around her waist before gravity could claim her. She fit perfectly in my arms—too perfectly.
Her breath caught.
When she looked up, her eyes met mine.
Steady.
Unflinching.
For a moment, the world went silent.
"Um… thank you for catching me," she said, a shy smile playing on her lips.
Her voice was soft, but there was awareness behind it. She wasn't intimidated. She wasn't impressed.
And that unsettled me more than I expected.
"You're welcome," I replied, my voice lower than intended.
She straightened, tightening her grip on the files before stepping back. No lingering touch. No second glance meant to entice.
Just a small wave.
Then she was gone.
I stood there longer than necessary, her scent still lingering in the air.
"Her name is Shanice."
Simba's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
I glanced at him. "Shanice," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue.
"Mm-hmm," he said with a knowing grin.
"Focused. Smart. Not the type you're used to."
That only made my interest deepen.
Across the room, I spotted her again, disappearing into a cluster of people who didn't deserve her attention.
For the first time in years, the party no longer mattered.
All I could think about was the woman in the burgundy dress—and the strange feeling that crossing her path was no coincidence.
"She's beautiful," I admitted quietly, turning one last time to watch her.
She handed the files to a woman nearby, her posture relaxing slightly afterward. Then her eyes began scanning the room, searching.
Something unfamiliar tightened in my chest.
Jealousy.
Who was she looking for?
"You know," Simba started, leaning closer, "instead of admiring her from afar, you could just ask me about her. I'll tell you everything you—"
"Shhh," I cut him off without looking away.
"Can we just enjoy the party?"
Simba laughed, shaking his head.
"Fine. Join the boys when you're done staring."
I dismissed him with a wave. He hesitated for a moment before finally walking away.
I didn't notice.
All my attention was still on her.
Shanice.
Who are you looking for?
The answer came sooner than I expected.
Her face suddenly lit up—soft and radiant, like a flower finally turning toward the sun. She laughed, genuine and warm.
"I was starting to think you stood me up, Eva." Shanice spoke and I was close enough to hear.
Xavier appeared beside me, arms crossed as he followed my line of sight.
"Now that," he said slowly, "is dangerous—even for you. Letting a woman make you lose focus like that."
I smirked. "Is it that obvious?"
He nodded.
I finally tore my gaze away and followed him toward the bar.
But my thoughts stayed behind—
fixed on the woman dancing beneath the dim lights.