CHAPTER SIX-THE GALA GAMBLE

The Westwood Hotel gleamed like a jewel dropped into the heart of the city, its towering glass walls reflecting the fading amber light of dusk. Each marble step leading to the grand entrance was flanked by velvet ropes, guarded by men in perfectly tailored black suits who watched the crowd with steely eyes. The air buzzed with the electric hum of anticipation, punctuated by the rapid bursts of camera flashes as limousines rolled up one after another, disgorging the city’s most glamorous and powerful figures. Their laughter and chatter echoed off the high glass façade, filling the space with a melody of privilege and power.

Sam Hart stood at the curb, hands flexing against the stiff cuffs of the rented tuxedo that felt more like armor than clothing. The bow tie pinched at the back of his neck, an unfamiliar restraint he refused to loosen. If Trevor Blackwood wanted to see cracks in his composure, he would be waiting a long time for them. Sam’s jaw tightened with determination this was for Rose, and no one would undermine that.

Next to him, the sleek black car door opened with a soft click, and Rose Westwood stepped out. She was breathtaking in deep emerald silk, the fabric catching every stray ray of light and shimmering with a subtle iridescence. Her hair was swept up, exposing the graceful curve of her neck and the bare shoulders that seemed to glow in the warm light. Heads turned instantly as she made her entrance, and for a moment, Sam forgot to breathe. The world shrunk to the sight of her, radiant and poised.

“You look…” Sam began, faltering as he searched for the right word. He shook his head slightly and smiled. “Dangerous.”

Rose’s lips curved into a knowing smile, but her eyes remained focused on his. “Just keep calm in there. These people aren’t like the ones you’re used to.”

“They’re still people,” Sam said quietly, offering his arm with quiet confidence. “And I’m here for you, not them.”

The valet took their car keys and opened the heavy glass doors. Inside, the ballroom was a dazzling world Sam had never set foot in before gold chandeliers dripping with crystal, casting prisms of light that danced on polished marble floors. Waiters moved like ghosts in crisp white jackets, balancing trays of champagne and delicate hors d’oeuvres with effortless grace. From a corner, a string quartet played a haunting melody, the notes weaving through the air like silk.

Rose guided him through the gathering crowd, weaving past clusters of elegantly dressed guests chatting softly behind jeweled fans and fluted glasses. “My mother will be here soon,” she whispered.

Sam’s eyes flicked over the sea of unfamiliar faces wealth and status worn like badges, smiles measured and eyes sharp. Every glance they cast toward him felt like a silent challenge, as though questioning how he dared to stand among them.

Then, like a beam of cold light cutting through the warmth, Diana Westwood arrived.

The room seemed to hold its breath as she entered, a vision of poise and sophistication. Her silver gown shimmered under the chandeliers, every movement radiating effortless elegance. Conversations paused, and all eyes turned toward her as she crossed the room with practiced grace. Her smile was perfect polished and just distant enough to command respect without warmth.

“Mother,” Rose said, standing straighter as Diana approached, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. “This is Sam.”

Diana’s gaze swept over Sam like a jeweler inspecting a precious stone. She extended her hand and took his with a light, cool touch that felt more like a measurement than a greeting.

“So you’re the one I’ve heard so much about,” she said, voice smooth and controlled.

Sam met her gaze without hesitation. “I hope it’s all good.”

Her smile didn’t waver, but there was no warmth in it. “We’ll see.” Without another word, Diana turned elegantly to greet another guest, leaving Sam with a tight knot twisting deep in his chest.

Before he could gather his thoughts, Trevor Blackwood appeared as if summoned by the tension itself. He was the very picture of success dressed to perfection in a sharply tailored suit that hugged his frame just right. His smile was smug, the kind that spoke of a man already certain of victory.

“Enjoying yourself, Sam?” Trevor asked casually, voice dripping with false friendliness.

“So far,” Sam replied evenly.

Trevor’s eyes gleamed with something sharper, darker. “Good. Because the night’s just getting started.”

Sam’s gaze followed Trevor’s to a waiter across the room who spoke quietly with him before slipping away toward the back. Something about the exchange set Sam’s nerves on edge too secretive, too deliberate.

Rose leaned close, her breath warm against his cheek. “Ignore him. He’s just trying to get in your head.”

But Sam couldn’t shake the cold knot forming in his stomach. Trevor’s trap was already in motion.

The lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the ballroom. The auctioneer took his place behind a polished podium, his voice clear and commanding as he began the night’s charity auction.

“And now,” he announced, “a rare 1920s Patek Philippe wristwatch an exquisite piece of craftsmanship and history.”

Eyes gleamed, hands raised in bids that quickly escalated as the crowd leaned into the competition. Sam watched Rose’s fingers clutch her champagne flute tightly, the calm façade she wore faltering beneath the pressure.

Suddenly, the chandeliers flickered. A murmur swept through the guests.

Lights blinked, then steadied, but the tension remained. Sam’s eyes locked onto Trevor’s, whose subtle smile told him the plan was unfolding perfectly.

Then, just as the auctioneer raised his gavel for the next bid,the lights flickered again, plunging the room into brief darkness before snapping back on.

A gasp rose from the crowd, followed by a shocked scream.

Sam’s heart pounded while every eye turned to him.

Just as the evening’s charity auction begins, the lights flicker and Sam finds himself accused of something he hasn’t even done yet, with the whole room watching.