The golden invitation sparkled under the dim light of my apartment. Its embossed lettering “Sinclair Foundation Annual Gala” seemed to taunt me. This was an event for people who had made it, who belonged. Not for someone like me, struggling to keep the lights on in a cramped one-bedroom in Queens.
Still, I couldn’t ignore what it represented: opportunity.
I adjusted the hem of my rented black dress for the fifth time, staring into the cracked mirror above my dresser. “You’ve got this,” I whispered, though my reflection looked unconvinced. The dress was elegant but simple, a far cry from the designer gowns I imagined would fill the Sinclair ballroom. Still, it would have to do.
The Sinclair Hotel loomed like a fortress of luxury in the heart of Manhattan. Its glittering chandeliers and polished marble floors whispered wealth and power. I clutched the invitation tightly, nerves bubbling as I stepped into the grand foyer.
Inside the ballroom, the grandeur was overwhelming. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a warm glow, and every surface seemed to gleam. Women in gowns worth more than my annual salary moved with effortless grace, their laughter mingling with the hum of a live orchestra. I felt small, almost invisible, as I made my way to the refreshment table for a glass of champagne.
The first sip barely touched my lips when a sharp jolt knocked me sideways.
“Oh!” I gasped, watching in horror as champagne spilled over the sleeve of a nearby man’s suit.
“I’m so sorry,” I stammered, reaching for a napkin. But when I turned to face him, the words died on my lips.
The man was tall, his sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes enough to make me forget how to breathe. He looked every bit the part of someone who belonged here—poised, powerful, untouchable.
“You should be,” he said, his tone clipped.
I flushed, hastily dabbing at his sleeve. “I—uh—I can pay for the dry cleaning,” I offered, though the words sounded ridiculous even to me.
He raised a brow, his gaze cutting through me like a blade. “Don’t bother. The suit’s worth more than your rent.”
My cheeks burned. I dropped the napkin, my embarrassment only deepening. “Well, I was trying to help.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though his eyes remained cold. “And you’ve done enough damage, Miss…?”
“Bennett,” I said quickly, trying to salvage some dignity. “Lila Bennett.”
He extended a hand, his expression unreadable. “Drew Sinclair.”
The name hit me like a freight train. Of course. The Drew Sinclair, billionaire hotelier and host of the gala.
“Enjoy the evening,” he said dismissively before walking away, leaving me standing there with my cheeks flaming and my pride in shreds.
The memory of my humiliation lingered long after the gala. For days, I replayed the scene in my mind, wincing at every detail. But just as I resolved to put it behind me, a phone call turned my world upside down.
“Hello, this is Lila Bennett,” I answered, trying to sound professional despite the nerves fraying my voice.
“Miss Bennett,” came a polished voice. “This is Rachel, Mr. Drew Sinclair’s assistant. He would like to schedule a meeting with you regarding a business opportunity.”
I blinked, gripping the phone tighter. “I’m sorry…..what?”
“Mr. Sinclair was impressed by your tenacity at the gala,” Rachel explained, “and believes your company might be a good fit for one of his upcoming projects. Are you available tomorrow at noon?”
I agreed, though my mind raced with a hundred questions. Why me? What did Drew Sinclair see in someone like me?
The next day, I stood before Sinclair Enterprises, a gleaming glass tower that seemed to stretch endlessly into the Manhattan skyline. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored doors, pale and anxious.
Inside, Rachel greeted me with a professional smile and led me to a conference room. Drew was already there, seated at the head of the table. His posture was relaxed, but his presence filled the room.
“Miss Bennett,” he said, gesturing for me to sit.
“Mr. Sinclair,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.
As I launched into my pitch, explaining my approach to events management, Drew watched me with an intensity that made my pulse race. His expression was unreadable, his silence unnerving. When I finished, he leaned back, steepling his fingers.
“Interesting,” he said after a long pause. “But managing a hotel launch is a far cry from planning weddings and corporate dinners.”
I straightened in my seat, ready to defend myself, but his next words stopped me cold.
“I’ve done my research on you, Miss Bennett,” he said, opening a folder.
Inside were photos and details of past events I’d managed; charity galas, product launches, weddings. He flipped through them as he spoke.
“This gala for the arts? Beautifully executed. And this tech launch? Impressive.”
I stared at the photos, my heart racing. “Thank you,” I managed.
“But,” he continued, his tone sharp, “this project is bigger than anything you’ve handled. You’ll be managing a multi-million-dollar budget, overseeing a team of hundreds. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
I met his gaze, my resolve hardening. “Give me the chance, and I’ll prove it to you.”
"You've got the contract; for five months. Don't disappoint me."
Relief flooded me as I thanked him and left the room, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and disbelief. But as I stepped into the elevator, a nagging thought lingered in the back of my mind.
Why had Drew chosen me?
My first week at Sinclair Enterprises was nothing short of brutal. The team I was meant to lead wasn’t thrilled about an outsider taking charge, and every suggestion I made was met with resistance. The scale of the operation was overwhelming, with countless moving parts and unspoken rules I struggled to keep up with.
Then there was Drew. His critiques were sharp, his standards impossibly high.
“Miss Bennett,” he said one afternoon, his tone as cold as ever, “attention to detail isn’t optional here. I suggest you remember that.”
I bit back my frustration, forcing a polite smile. “Of course, Mr. Sinclair.”
By Friday, I was exhausted, questioning whether I’d made the biggest mistake of my career. That evening, Drew appeared in my office, his expression unreadable.
“There’s a corporate gala tomorrow,” he said. “You’ll attend. Consider it an opportunity to familiarize yourself with the brands you’ll be working with for the launch.”
The gala was another whirlwind of opulence and nerves. Drew stayed by my side for most of the evening, his presence both reassuring and unnerving.
I couldn't ignore the growing tension between us. It was in the way his hand lingered on my lower back as he guided me through the crowd, the way his gaze seemed to soften when he looked at me, and the way his voice dipped lower when he spoke to me
“You’re doing well,” he said at one point, his gaze softer than I’d ever seen it.
“Thanks,” I replied, my voice tinged with disbelief. “I’ve done my homework.”
He smirked faintly. “It shows.”
As the night wore on, the tension between us grew. When he finally leaned in close, his voice dropped to a whisper.
“Have a drink with me,” he said, his tone low and inviting.
The words sent a jolt through me, but I followed him to the bar. We talked, the conversation growing more personal with each drink.
“You’re full of surprises, Miss Bennett,” he said, his voice softer now.
“And you’re not as intimidating as everyone says,” I countered, a playful smile tugging at my lips.
He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. “Don’t let that get out. I have a reputation to uphold.”
The banter faded, replaced by a charged silence. His gaze lingered on mine, his eyes dark with something unspoken.
And then he kissed me, it was like a spark igniting a fire. His hands cradled my face, his touch both commanding and tender.
“Come with me,” he murmured.
My breath hitched, but I didn’t hesitate. As we stepped into the elevator, the tension crackled like electricity. By the time we reached his penthouse, all rational thought had disappeared, leaving only the heat of the moment.
"Are you sure about this?" Drew asked, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.
I didn't answer with words. Instead, I closed the distance between us, my lips finding his in a kiss tha
t held all the unspoken emotions neither of us dared to voice.
This was reckless. It was dangerous. But it was also inevitable.
Lila's POV The evening air was cool and soft against my skin as I took a walk around the neighborhood. I needed that walk, a little time to breathe, to think, to clear my head from the whirlwind that had become my life lately.Drew had insisted I rest after lunch today, but rest was impossible when your mind wouldn’t stop running circles around your own feelings.So I took a slow stroll down the path, one hand gently resting on my stomach as the other brushed against the flowers that were nearby. The sun was setting, painting the sky in gold and pink hues, and everything looked so calm… so deceivingly normal. But my heart wasn’t calm. If anything, it was louder than ever.I couldn’t stop thinking about Drew and everything he had done for me lately. The security, the way he was constantly looking out for me, treating me like I was his only priority and staying by me when I was scared just to made sure I never felt alone.Truth was he didn’t have to. He could have just kept his dist
Lila's POV The next few days passed quietly. Almost too quietly like Max had not sent that text and Drew, he was around most of the time, though sometimes he would leave for a few hours to attend to business, meetings, or whatever new plans he was making to make sure Max never got close again.Then came the day of my next doctor’s appointment. It was sunny that morning, the kind of bright that made everything outside look softer. Drew drove, as usual and the ride was mostly silent, except for the soft hum of the radio and the sound of the tires on the road.I watched the world blur past the window, trees, street signs, flashes of people going about their day. For a while, it felt like things were almost normal.Then, out of nowhere, Drew broke the silence.“Have you thought about doing a gender reveal? Or a baby shower?”I blinked, turning to him. “A baby shower?”He glanced at me briefly, one hand still on the steering wheel. “Yeah. You know, balloons, cake, everyone pretending not
Lila’s POVWhen I finally opened my eyes, the world felt softer.The faint hum of the ceiling fan filled the quiet, and sunlight slanted through the curtains in thin, golden lines. For a second, I didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing I recalled was Drew’s voice, steady and low, whispering that I was safe. Somewhere between that and the sound of my heartbeat slowing, sleep had claimed me.Now, as I blinked the haze away, I realized it wasn’t morning anymore. The light had shifted, warmer, dimmer, that tender hue that meant evening was creeping in. My body felt heavy, drained from all the crying and fear. But more than anything, it felt… calm.I stretched slowly, wincing a little from stiffness, then turned my head. That silence that usually comforted me now felt unfamiliar. But then, something else reached me, a smell.I inhaled deeply.The faint, delicious aroma of food drifted through the air; garlic, herbs, something warm and comforting which meant someone had cooked.My
Lila's POV For a second, I couldn’t move.The words on my phone screen blurred, then refocused like they were mocking me.My chest tightened and my throat went dry. It felt like someone had poured ice water into my veins. I blinked, hoping it was some kind of twisted mistake, a wrong number, a prank. But deep down, I knew it wasn't.The shadow I have been praying not to see again had found me.The phone slipped slightly from my grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud. My hands trembled so violently I had to press them against my chest to stop the shaking.I turned toward the window instinctively, half expecting to see him standing outside, watching. The early morning light streamed in soft and golden, but it didn’t feel warm, It felt exposing. Every shadow stretched too long, every sound in the house seemed to echo.My heart was pounding so fast I could barely think.The world around me blurred as my mind replayed every memory of him, his voice, his eyes, the smile that never reach
Lila’s POV Morning came softly. A pale stream of sunlight filtered through the curtains, stretching lazily across the room until it touched my face. For a brief moment, I didn’t remember where I was, everywhere felt strange at first. The sheets were too smooth, the air smelled faintly of fresh linen and vanilla, and the silence was… peaceful. Too peaceful. Then it hit me, I was in Drew’s house. Or rather, my house now. I blinked slowly, taking it all in. The memories of yesterday unfolded like fragments of a dream; the drive, the surprise, the way his eyes had softened when he asked me to trust him and put on the blindfold. I could still feel that brief, unspoken moment between us before Mrs. Dalia’s voice broke it apart. And that look he gave me before leaving, gentle but unreadable. I pressed my palms to my face and sighed. It was going to take time to get used to all of this, the space, the quiet and the fact that Drew had done all this for me. After a few minutes, I pushed
Drew’s POVThe drive away from Lila’s new home felt longer than it should have.The streets rolled by in slow motion, the hum of the engine fading into the background as my mind replayed the moment I had just left behind.That look in her eyes. God, it was enough to undo every wall I had built around myself.For a brief second, everything had fallen away the past, the mistakes, the tension that always lingered between us and it was just me and her, standing in that quiet room surrounded by sunlight and framed photographs. Her eyes had found mine, and I could have sworn the air shifted; heavy, magnetic, charged with something I could not even begin to name.If Mrs. Dalia had not spoken when she did, I was not sure what would have happened next. Maybe I would have reached out and finally done what I have been fighting not to do, close that last inch between us and kiss her.And God help me, I wanted to, more than anything, I wanted to.But the thing about wanting something that much is