The ballroom at the top of the Blackthorne Tower shimmered under the warm glow of crystal chandeliers. Glasses clinked, laughter drifted through the air, and the city lights glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a surreal glow over the celebration. Tonight was Blackthorne Corporation's annual gala — exclusive, opulent, and filled with the kind of people whose names carried weight.
Amelia stood near the edge of the crowd, a glass of champagne untouched in her hand. She wore a sleek emerald dress that hugged her curves and left her shoulders bare. Her hair was swept up, a few loose strands framing her face. She looked confident. Composed. But inside, her thoughts were anything but calm.
She wasn't sure why she had come. Maybe part of her wanted to see Liam outside the cold walls of the office — to catch a glimpse of the man behind the suits and power plays. Or maybe she had hoped to blend into the crowd and disappear from the storm brewing in her chest. Whatever the reason, the moment she stepped into the ballroom and saw him — tall, magnetic, surrounded by people yet somehow entirely alone — she knew she was in trouble.
Liam Blackthorne stood near the center of the room, impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo that fit him like it had been tailored by a god. His gaze swept over the crowd like a silent predator, until it landed on her.
Amelia froze.
Their eyes locked across the room. Something flickered in his — a spark, a recognition, a challenge. She looked away first.
"Trying to avoid him?" came a smooth voice at her side.
She turned and found Julian Crane standing beside her, holding two glasses of champagne. He offered her one. His smile was charming, but his eyes were sharp — too observant for comfort.
Amelia accepted the drink. "I'm not avoiding anyone. Just... enjoying the view."
Julian laughed softly. "You don't strike me as someone who enjoys just watching."
"What makes you think that?"
"You're too intense for that. Your eyes are always calculating something."
His words sent a ripple through her — not exactly a compliment, but not an insult either. She couldn't decide if he was flirting or studying her.
"And what are you calculating, Mr. Crane?"
He tilted his head. "Whether I should warn you or let you find out on your own."
Her brows furrowed. "Warn me about what?"
But before he could answer, Liam appeared beside them.
"Miss Hale." His voice was deep, even. "Mr. Crane."
There was a quiet tension in the air as both men acknowledged each other. Amelia stood between them, suddenly aware of how closely Liam had positioned himself. His presence was electric — overwhelming.
"Liam," she said with a polite nod, masking the flutter in her chest.
Julian handed her the second glass. "We were just talking about—"
"Let's dance," Liam interrupted, holding out his hand.
Amelia hesitated. Julian didn't move. Neither did Liam. Two forces — both powerful in their own right — waiting to see which she'd choose.
She took Liam's hand.
The music shifted to something slower, smoother, as he led her to the dance floor. His hand pressed lightly against her back, the other holding hers. She could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of her dress.
"You're full of surprises tonight," she murmured.
"You're the one who came looking like that," he replied, his voice low. "You make it hard to pretend I'm not watching you."
Her breath hitched.
The tension between them had grown over the past weeks — subtle looks, long silences, the brush of fingertips when papers were exchanged. But this... this was new.
They moved in sync, effortlessly, as if their bodies had been waiting for this moment.
"Julian seems... interested in you," Liam said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Should I be flattered or concerned?"
He didn't answer right away. "He's not what he seems."
"And you are?"
His gaze held hers. "I never claimed to be a good man, Amelia."
The way he said her name made her stomach tighten.
She wanted to ask more, but just then, a familiar voice broke through the music. Two executives walked past them, deep in conversation, clearly unaware she could hear.
"...Blackthorne's got the daughter working for him. Hale's girl. Doesn't even know she's part of the plan."
Her blood ran cold.
She stopped dancing. Liam noticed immediately.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, concern — or something like it — flickering across his face.
She forced a smile. "Just... dizzy. Too much champagne, maybe."
But her mind was spinning.
Had she heard that right? Hale's girl? Her?
And plan?
As Liam led her back toward the bar, her thoughts raced. Was it a coincidence? Just someone with the same last name?
Or had they been talking about her?
She glanced at Liam. His expression was unreadable. Too perfect. Too calm.
She remembered what Julian had said earlier. Warn you or let you find out on your own.
Was that it?
She stepped away from Liam the moment they reached the edge of the crowd. "I need some air," she murmured.
"I'll come with you," he offered, but she shook her head.
"Alone."
He didn't stop her, but his eyes followed her until she disappeared onto the rooftop terrace. The cool night air hit her skin, bringing clarity. The city stretched out before her — vast, blinding, unknowable.
She leaned on the railing, heart pounding.
What am I doing?
She was falling for him. And she didn't even know who he really was.
Behind her, the door creaked open. She turned, expecting Liam.
But it was Julian.
He offered her a silent nod, then stood beside her without saying a word.
For a moment, they just stared out at the city.
Then he said, "You should be careful who you let pull you into their gravity, Amelia. Some stars burn too hot."
She looked at him. "And what about you?"
He smiled faintly. "I just orbit."