The grand hall of Velvet Corporation shimmered like a scene from a fantasy. The chandeliers bathed the venue in golden light, live violins played softly in the background, and guests mingled in their finest attire.
Saphina stood by the entrance, welcoming the stream of high-profile guests with her signature charm. She was radiant — dressed in a sleek emerald green gown with a plunging neckline and a slit that ran high up her thigh. Her skin glowed under the soft lighting, her hair styled in loose curls that framed her glowing face.
Just as she greeted the CEO of one of the partner firms, a familiar voice said behind her, "Didn't think you'd still be here."
She turned, and her eyes lit up. "Look who finally showed up." She smirked, folding her arms. "I thought you'd ghost this event, Jack."
Jack looked sharp in his tailored black tuxedo with a silver chain peeking subtly from beneath his blazer. His presence was commanding, his confidence unmatched. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Wouldn't miss your invite for anything."
"Well, behave," she teased, adjusting the pin on his lapel. "And try not to get into trouble."
Jack chuckled, "No promises."
"Go enjoy the party," she said, waving him in.
As Jack turned and walked into the hall, Saphina's eyes drifted — only to meet another gaze that made her heart skip a beat.
Tristan Moretti.
He stood across the hall in a custom midnight-blue tux, broad shoulders, and an air of power that made him look like he ruled the entire room. His eyes were fixed on her — intense, dark, unreadable — as if he were seeing her for the very first time.
She took a deep breath and walked toward him.
"Well, don't you look sharp, Mr. Moretti," she said playfully, trying to break the tension.
"You look… breathtaking, Miss Hadley," Tristan said without hesitation, his voice low and deep.
For a second, neither of them moved. Then, as if magnetized, they turned and walked into the gala together — their chemistry so obvious, heads turned.
---
Inside the grand ballroom, laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft rhythm of orchestral music filled the air. Couples danced gracefully, while others mingled around the buffet and champagne stands.
Jack stood at a corner, sipping a drink, observing… until *he saw her*.
Liana.
She was standing by the grand staircase, a vision in a fitted off-shoulder wine-red dress, with her hair pinned up and a silver necklace resting delicately on her collarbone. She looked elegant, mysterious — and completely out of his reach.
Their eyes met for a fleeting second.
Then she turned away, pretending she hadn't seen him.
Jack blinked, confused. He quickly placed the glass down and made his way through the crowd, calling out softly, "Liana?"
She didn't stop. In fact, she picked up her pace.
"Liana, wait!" he said, catching up with her just outside the ballroom.
She turned sharply, arms folded. "Yes, Mr…?"
Jack raised a brow. "Mr?"
"You seem confused," she added coldly. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" he repeated, irritated now. "Why are you ignoring me and pretending you don't know me?"
"Oh, now I'm the one ignoring? That's rich," Liana snapped. "Should I remind you who didn't reply to my message?"
Jack exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Look… if this is about the message, I'm sorry. I was busy."
"Whatever," she muttered, turning to watch the dancers again, visibly hurt.
Before she could say anything more, Jack gently took her hand and pulled her away from the noise, past the curtains, and into the garden just behind the hall.
The air outside was cooler, quieter, and scented with fresh roses and night jasmine.
"Let go of me, Jack, I don't want to—"
He silenced her the only way he knew how.
With a kiss.
Liana's eyes widened in shock as his lips claimed hers, fierce and desperate. She pushed lightly at first, caught off-guard — but the fire in his kiss melted her resistance.
His hand found her waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers curled into his jacket as his tongue brushed against hers, deepening the kiss with a hunger he couldn't suppress. It was messy, unplanned — but real.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Jack rested his forehead against hers.
"I'm sorry, Liana. I should've messaged you back. I just… I've never felt like this before. You mess with my head."
Liana blinked, still trying to catch her breath. "That's not an excuse to act like I didn't matter."
"You do matter. More than you know," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Liana looked away, her cheeks burning. "You're dangerous, Jack."
He smirked, but his tone was serious. "So are you. And I like dangerous."
---
The night air outside was quiet, but inside the ballroom, the mood had shifted. The music slowed down into a softer, more intimate melody — violins playing a delicate waltz that drew couples to the dance floor.
Tristan stood at the edge of the room, his glass untouched in his hand, his eyes following just one person — Saphina.
She was laughing lightly with one of the CEOs, effortlessly graceful in her emerald gown. The way the light bounced off the sequins on her dress made her look almost unreal. Her presence filled every space she stepped into, yet somehow, she hadn't noticed the one person who couldn't stop watching her.
Until now.
As if she felt his gaze burning into her skin, she turned slowly, locking eyes with him across the dance floor.
A breath caught in both their throats.
She excused herself politely and walked toward him, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
"Are you always this antisocial at events?" she asked playfully, stopping in front of him.
"Only when the most interesting person is too busy charming everyone else," Tristan replied, his voice smooth.
Saphina raised a brow. "Was that a compliment, Mr. Moretti?"
He smirked. "Take it how you will."
There was a beat of silence. Then the soft notes of a romantic instrumental began playing.
Saphina tilted her head. "You don't seem like the dancing type."
"I'm not," Tristan said truthfully.
"Scared I'll outdance you?" she teased.
He stepped forward, offering his hand. "Try me."
She placed her hand in his — warm, soft — and let him guide her to the center of the dance floor.
Their bodies aligned effortlessly. His hand settled on the small of her back, her arm rested gently on his shoulder. For a moment, neither spoke. They just moved in rhythm — two people who shouldn't fit, yet did.
"You clean up well," she whispered, eyes scanning his sharp jawline, perfectly styled hair, and those intense eyes.
"So do you," he murmured. "You look... dangerously beautiful in green."
"Dangerous?" she laughed lightly. "That's a first."
Tristan leaned slightly closer. "I meant it as a compliment. You make it hard for people to look away."
Saphina's smile faded slightly, replaced by something softer — more vulnerable.
"You keep saying things like that, Mr. Moretti, and I might start thinking you actually like me."
His eyes never left hers. "Maybe I do."
She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty in his tone. For a second, the world faded — the music, the people, the gala — all of it disappeared. It was just them.
Dancing in silence.
Feeling too much.
Saphina cleared her throat, trying to suppress the fluttering in her chest. "You're full of mystery, Tristan."
"And you like mysteries, don't you?"
She smirked. "Only the ones worth solving."
Their eyes locked again, and this time, the silence between them felt electric.
He leaned in just slightly, his lips close to her ear. "Careful, Saphina. You're playing with fire."
She didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned in too. "Maybe I'm not afraid to get burned."
Their dance continued, the world watching but unaware — of the storm quietly brewing between two people too afraid to confess what their hearts already knew.
---