Chapter 005

Handsome didn’t quite cut it.

He was stunning, the kind of man who made people stop mid-sentence without even realizing it. His hair was jet black, cut sharp at the sides, falling just enough over his forehead to make him look recklessly elegant. He stood at least six-foot-five, broad-shouldered with the kind of posture that came naturally to men who owned rooms without saying a word.

His face was all clean lines and high cheekbones, his jaw defined, his mouth firm. But it was his eyes that did it—steel-grey, cold and deliberate, scanning the crowd like he was already two steps ahead of everyone there.

A few women near the carpet giggled, trying to catch his attention. He didn’t glance at a single one of them.

I swallowed, my stomach tightening for a reason I couldn’t quite explain. He looked like he could destroy someone’s life with a single decision and never lose sleep over it.

And even though something about him pulled at me, I knew immediately, he wasn’t the kind of man I should ever go after.

He was too polished. Too powerful. The kind that could spot a fraud from across a ballroom. One wrong word, one misstep, and he’d know exactly what I was an outsider in borrowed heels.

No. Adrian Holt was the type who dated women born with old money and last names that opened doors.

If I was going to play this game, I needed someone softer. Someone rich but reachable. A man with influence, not dominion.

Still, my eyes lingered a second too long before Clara’s voice cut through the noise.

“Alright, team,” she said briskly, her heels clicking against the marble as she motioned us closer. “Guest lists and assignments. We have three main coverage points tonight—the west lounge, the dining hall, and the balcony section. Don’t wander, don’t mingle, and for the love of God, don’t try to get photographs with anybody.”

She started handing out sheets, her tone clipped. “You—” she pointed at Mara, “—you’re with table service in the lounge. Keep your tray steady and your mouth shut unless spoken to.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, taking the list.

The paper felt thin in my hand, almost trembling with the bass of the music already building inside. The other girls nodded, some whispering excitedly about the celebrities on the guest list.

I tucked my badge into my blazer pocket, squared my shoulders, and followed them through the massive glass doors.

Inside, the room glowed with gold light and money crystal chandeliers, marble floors, laughter that sounded like champagne.

For a moment, I let myself take it all in.

This was it. The world I wanted.

And I was finally standing inside it.

The lounge was a masterpiece of elegance—soft gold light, low jazz humming through hidden speakers, the kind of place where even laughter sounded expensive.

I balanced the silver tray in one hand, moving through the crowd with the same poise I’d seen in movies. My borrowed heels pinched, but I kept my head high, smiling when necessary, silent when not.

In my other hand was the printed guest list Clara had given me earlier. Between each refill, I sneaked quick glances at the names.

Mr. and Mrs. R. Donovan — shipping conglomerate.

Leonard Voss — real estate.

Catherine Vale — media and PR.

Ambrose Hale — investment banking.

The list read like a billionaire’s roll call. Each name carried weight, each face was one I’d seen on business articles or the society page.

I couldn’t help the small curl of satisfaction in my chest. This was exactly where I needed to be.

I offered another guest a glass of champagne, murmuring a polite “enjoy your evening” before gliding on.

Everywhere I looked, people were laughing, shaking hands, whispering things that mattered. I studied how they moved, how they touched arms lightly when they talked, how their smiles were never too big, never too eager.

That’s what power looks like, I thought. Effortless.

But I couldn’t just stand here staring. If tonight was going to mean anything, I needed an entry point—a connection. Someone who could bring me into this world naturally.

And for that, I needed a friend.

Not just anyone. Someone high enough to matter but warm enough to let me in.

I scanned the room, my eyes landing briefly on a group of women gathered near the far end of the lounge. They were all stunning—sleek dresses, smooth laughter, but one of them stood out.

Young and beautiful, She wasn’t laughing like the others. Just smiling politely, nodding at something her friend said, her eyes darting toward the bar every few seconds like she wished she was somewhere else.

There you are.

I straightened my tray, waiting for the right moment. When one of the women excused herself, the quiet one shifted her clutch awkwardly, and that was my cue.

I took a step forward, pretending not to notice the edge of the carpet until the tray tilted slightly and one of the champagne glasses nearly slipped.

“Oh my God—” she gasped, reaching out quickly to steady it.

“Thank you,” I said breathlessly, offering a nervous smile. “I’m so sorry. First day jitters.”

Her lips curved kindly. “It’s alright. Happens to everyone.”

Her voice was smooth, friendly—the kind I could work with.

I smiled again, bowing my head slightly before stepping back into line, heart drumming fast.

Step one: contact made.

Now all I needed was a second chance to make her remember me.

“Um… hi, I’m Elizabeth,” I said before I could stop myself, forcing a small, nervous smile. “Elizabeth Monroe. Clara’s… uh—niece. I just got into town a few weeks ago, and she didn’t want me staying home alone, so I offered to help her out tonight.”

The lie rolled off my tongue like it had been waiting there, desperate for air.

For a second, I thought I’d blown it. But then the woman’s face lit up in delight.

“You’re Clara’s family? Oh my God, that’s so sweet of you to help her out!” she said warmly. “I’m Elsie. We’re probably age mates, so please, don’t be so formal.”

She extended her hand, and I shook it quickly, hoping she wouldn’t notice how clammy mine was.

“Nice to meet you, Elsie,” I managed, my voice steady but my heart slamming against my ribs.

Step two: new identity.

The moment she turned her head to glance toward the stage, I let out a silent breath and mentally smacked myself.

I just lied.

Not a small, casual, harmless lie—no. A full-blown, name-dropping, easily-verifiable kind of lie. The kind that could get me fired, blacklisted, and maybe even thrown out before dessert.

And the worst part? I didn’t even check my facts. For all I knew, Clara didn’t have a niece. She didn’t even look like the kind of woman who had family close enough to visit. She looked like the kind who had assistants—not nieces.

Brilliant, Mara. Absolutely brilliant.

And Elizabeth? Out of every name in the universe, I picked the one that sounds like someone who wears pearls to bed. Who even names their child Elizabeth anymore?!

Elsie smiled at me again, completely unaware of the panic blooming in my chest. “Come, Liz,” she said cheerfully. “You have to meet some of my friends. They’ll love that you’re helping with this event. Clara’s events are always the talk of the city. By the way you look gorgeous.”

“Uh—sure, thanks” I said, adjusting my tray before realizing she was already linking her arm through mine and steering me toward a circle of well-dressed people laughing near the fountain.

I was in too deep to back out now.

So I smiled, nodded, and walked right into the lion’s den.

I may have just gotten myself a friend.

Step three: second point of entry/connection to the rich world made!

This is going way better that I thought it would