Chapter 2 Untitled Chapter
Elias Voss had gone thirty- two years without wanting anything he couldn't have.
He'd been born into wealth, raised in privilege, and built an empire on the bones of his competitors. Women threw themselves at him. Business partners groveled for his approval. He'd never had to ask for anything in his life.
But now, he couldn't stop thinking about a woman who called him an asshole.
Her face haunted him. Those brown eyes, wide and defiant. Her lips, trembling with rage and barely contained tears. The way she'd stood her ground when everyone else in the world would have backed down. He'd replayed the moment a hundred times, dissecting every word, every gesture.
She'd been wearing a sweatshirt. A baggy, faded thing that hung off her shoulders. Her hair had been in a messy bun, stray strands escaping around her face.
And she'd been beautiful.
Not in the polished, practiced way of the women who flocked to him. Not in the Photoshopped, airbrushed way of the models he dated. She'd been real.
He hated it.
He hated how she'd gotten under his skin. He hated how he'd spent the last three days thinking about her. He didn't even know her name.
"Mark," he said into his phone. "Find out everything about the woman in the sweatshirt. The one from the hallway. I want to know everything by morning."
Mark, his IT guy, didn't ask questions. He never did. "Yes, sir. On it."
Elias hung up and stared out the window at the city below.
A few days passed on Sloane's side of the city.
The memory of Elias Voss's blue eyes lingered at the edges of her thoughts, but she pushed it away. She had no room for fantasies about rich men. She had bills to pay and a brother to keep alive.
Then Katie came to the shop.
She stayed longer than usual, lingering over her latte while the morning rush faded. Ryan and Abigail were cleaning the espresso machine, their conversation a low hum in the background.
"There's a gala," Katie said, her voice casual. "The annual Voss charity event. Every important person in the city will be there."
Sloane laughed. "Good for them."
"You should come. As my plus-one."
Sloane stared at her. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't belong there, and I have a brother to take care of."
Ryan set down his cleaning cloth and crossed his arms. "You've been closed off since your dad died. You need this, Sloane. You need to do something for yourself."
Abigail nodded. "Rich men. Champagne. You need to let loose."
"I can't leave Seth alone. What if something happens?"
Before she could continue, Abigail cut her off. "He'll be fine. We'll spend the night with him."
"We?" Ryan raised an eyebrow.
Abigail smacked his arm. He cleared his throat. "Yes. We'll be with Seth."
Seth was sitting at the counter, doing his homework despite the IV line that had been removed only yesterday. He was pale, his cheeks hollow, but he was smiling, the same crooked smile he'd worn since he was six, the one that always meant he was trying to be brave for her.
"I'll be fine, Sloanie," he said. "Go have fun."
Sloane looked at him. He looked so young. So fragile. "You sure?"
He nodded. "Go."
Katie beamed. "Everyone approves."
Sloane let out a long sigh. "Fine. I'll go."
Katie clapped her hands together. "Friday night. I'll pick you up."
Ryan pointed at Sloane with a grin. "You should probably get laid, too. God knows what forest grows down there by now."
Sloane grabbed a towel and threw it at his face. He caught it, laughing. She was laughing too, despite herself.
"I'm doing your makeup," Ryan added. "You're going to look so hot no one will recognize you."
Friday arrived faster than she expected.
They closed the shop early. Sloane went home to get ready, her stomach churning with nerves. Ryan showed up with a bag full of makeup, his expression determined. Abigail came right behind him, carrying a garment bag.
"What's that?" Sloane asked.
Abigail smiled mysteriously. "Your dress."
They pushed Sloane into the bedroom and got to work. Ryan handled her face with the precision of a surgeon, his brow furrowed in concentration. Abigail zipped and adjusted the dress, her movements gentle but firm.
Seth sat in the living room, watching TV with Mrs. Cooper, the elderly neighbor who'd been checking on him while Sloane worked.
"You look pretty!" Seth yelled from the other room. Mrs. Cooper shushed him.
When Ryan and Abigail finally stepped back, Sloane didn't recognize the woman in the mirror.
The dress was red. Strapless. Sweetheart neckline that showed just enough cleavage, a slit that reached to her upper thigh. It hugged her body like it had been painted on, the fabric sliding over her curves like water.
But the dress was only part of it.
Sloane was beautiful. She'd always been beautiful—she just hadn't had the time or money to show it. Her light brown hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders. Her eyes were honey-brown with thick lashes. Her skin had a natural glow that Ryan had only enhanced.
She looked like a woman who'd been hiding for years and was finally stepping into the light.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
Ryan smirked. "Told you."
Katie arrived minutes later. When Sloane opened the door, Katie's jaw dropped.
"You look..." Katie shook her head, speechless. "Wow. Just wow."
"Thanks."
Sloane kissed Seth's forehead, taking in the smell of his shampoo, the warmth of his skin. "Be good."
"I'm always good."
She waved at Ryan and Abigail, then followed Katie downstairs to the car.
The venue was a grand hotel in the heart of Manhattan.
Lights covered every surface. A red carpet stretched from the sidewalk to the front doors. Men in tuxedos and women in designer gowns stepped out of limousines like they owned the world. Sloane held onto Katie's arm, trying to steady her nerves.
Inside, the ballroom was even more opulent than she'd imagined. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls. Tables wore white cloths and fresh flowers, and a live band played soft music in the corner. The air smelled like perfume and old money.
Katie grabbed two glasses from a passing tray and handed one to Sloane. "Drink. You look like you're about to run."
Sloane sipped. The champagne tickled her nose. "I might still run."
"Don't. I refuse to be alone here."
They moved deeper into the crowd. Heads turned. Men stopped mid-sentence to watch Sloane walk by, their eyes trailing her red dress. Sloane felt the weight of their stares, but she kept her chin up. She wasn't used to this kind of attention.
A man in a gray suit approached her. "Excuse me, I don't think I've seen you before. Can I get you a drink?"
Before Sloane could answer, another man stepped in. Dark hair, young, confident. "I'll get her a drink. What's your name, beautiful?"
Sloane opened her mouth to respond—
And her words died in her throat.
Because across the room, she saw him.
Elias had been bored for an hour.
He stood at the center of the ballroom, nodding at people he didn't care about, shaking hands he didn't want to touch. The music was dull. Everyone in this room was the same, fake, desperate, hungry for his attention.
He was about to leave when the crowd shifted.
Someone walked through the entrance. A woman in red. He didn't look at first. He was too busy trying to escape Serena's grasp, her hand on his arm, her voice in his ear.
Then he heard the whispers. The way men turned their heads like dogs catching a scent.
He looked.
And his world tilted.
It was her. The woman from the hallway. The one who'd yelled at him. The woman who'd been living in his head for days, no matter how hard he tried to forget her.
But she was different now.
The last time he saw her, she'd been wearing a baggy sweatshirt and jeans. Dark circles under her eyes. Her hair in a messy bun. She'd looked tired and desperate and beautiful in a way that had confused him.
Now she looked like a goddess.
The red dress clung to her like it was made for her. It hugged her waist, cupped her breasts, fell over her hips like water. The slit showed a long, smooth thigh. Her hair fell past her shoulders in waves, and her lips were pink and full and slightly parted.
Elias forgot how to breathe.
He forgot who he was. He forgot the people in this room. He forgot everything except her.
She was beautiful. Not in the polished, practiced way of the women in this room. She was beautiful in a dangerous, unpredictable way. The kind of beautiful that could destroy a man if he got too close.
He wanted to get closer.
The thought terrified him.
She was staring back at him. He could see her chest rising and falling beneath the red dress. Her fingers trembled around her champagne glass. She wasn't looking away.
Neither was he.
The distance between them felt impossibly small.
He took a step toward her. He hadn't planned it. His body moved on its own.
"Sir." Serena's voice cut through the fog. "The mayor is waiting."
He blinked. The world rushed back in. Voices. Music. Lights.
But he could still feel her eyes on him.
Across the room, Sloane exhaled like she'd been held underwater.
Katie grabbed her arm. "What the hell was that?"
"I don't know," Sloane whispered.
"He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you."
Sloane looked back at him. He was talking to Serena and an older man, his face carefully composed. But his eyes kept drifting back to her.
Katie leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I've seen what happens to the women he notices. They don't walk away unscathed. They disappear into his world, and they come out different. If they come out at all. I'm not saying this to scare you. I'm saying it because I like you."
Sloane nodded, but she couldn't look away from him.
His eyes found hers again. Just for a second.
The heat returned to her face.
Sloane finished her champagne in one long sip.
"Get me another," she said.
Katie raised an eyebrow. "Now you're talking."
Sloane walked toward the champagne table. Her legs felt weak. Her hands were shaking. Her skin was on fire.
Behind her, she felt his eyes on her back.
She didn't turn around.
But she smiled. Just a little.
