Maya stood nervously in front of the elevator, clutching her small clutch bag as she waited for Richard to come out of his room.

In the early hours of the morning, several women had entered her suite to help her get ready—sent by Richard's order, she was told.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Maya sat before the mirror in disbelief. She barely recognized the reflection staring back at her.

Her golden hair had been swept into an elegant updo, soft curls framing her face. She wore a deep red strapless ball gown that hugged her frame perfectly—tailored, it seemed, just for her. Around her neck glistened a diamond necklace, matched by the bracelet clasped around her wrist.

She looked... stunning. Not like herself. Like someone who belonged in a place like this.

For the first time, she understood the magnitude of the event. And just how crucial it was not to make a single mistake.

Then, the door across the hallway opened.

Richard stepped out of his suite, dressed in a sleek black suit tailored to precision. His jacket clung perfectly to his broad shoulders, the subtle sheen of the fabric catching the warm hallway light. His expression, as always, was unreadable—gaze fixed on his watch as if willing time to pass more quickly.

Maya's breath caught in her throat.

There he was. The man who scared her, confused her, and somehow intrigued her all at once. Richard Steel, in every definition, looked like the embodiment of human perfection.

He sensed her gaze first.

It was strange—almost magnetic. A quiet tug that drew his attention away from the ticking of his watch. His eyes lifted.

And then, they met hers.

For one long, electric moment, neither of them moved.

Maya couldn't make sense of the warmth that bloomed in her chest. And Richard—he couldn't name what he was feeling. Only that something about her made him pause longer than he ever had with anyone before.

Yes, she was beautiful. That much was obvious.

But it wasn't just that.

There was something else. Something deeper. Something he couldn't define, and it unnerved him.

Maya looked away first, her cheeks flushed. She tried to gather herself, forcing her posture straighter.

Richard exhaled slowly, irritated that he had somehow lost minutes just standing there. He checked his watch again, and without another word, walked over to the elevator and pressed the button.

It opened immediately. They stepped inside.

The silence followed them again.

Maya focused all her attention on staying composed. On not slipping up. Not tonight.

Richard was focused on getting through the event with minimal damage—both to himself and others.

The ballroom was nestled at the rear of the estate, stretching across the entire width of the second floor. It was breathtaking—decorated entirely in white, with delicate gold trim catching the candlelight. A vast dance floor gleamed at the center, and French doors at the far end opened onto a lush garden. A refreshment room sat adjacent, filled with trays of sparkling wine and canapés.

Music filled the space—violins, piano, and cello weaving together a melody that set the perfect backdrop for luxury.

Over a hundred guests were in attendance. The press lingered subtly among them, cameras raised discreetly.

The moment Richard and Maya entered, the entire room shifted.

Flashes erupted. Applause followed. Guests turned to look.

Maya stayed close behind Richard, heart hammering, grateful he moved with such steady certainty—like an anchor in an unfamiliar world.

Guest after guest approached Richard with smiles, handshakes, and polite pleasantries. Maya said nothing, quietly absorbing the formalities until they finally arrived at their table near the front of the ballroom.

Four men were already seated.

"Mr. Steel—welcome, welcome!" one of them exclaimed, standing to shake his hand.

"I don't shake hands," Richard said flatly.

The man froze, visibly flustered.

Then, Richard gave a short, humorless laugh. "Come on. Take a joke."

He shook the man's hand, though his discomfort was obvious. It was all just an act, one he was determined to maintain until the night was over.

"This is my secretary, Maya Peyton," he introduced her.

Maya offered a polite smile and shook the man's hand.

"I'm Hank Ross," he said, puffing up with pride. "I'm sure you're aware that my company—which I built from scratch—is now officially partnering with Steel Corporation. First partner in your company's history, isn't that right?"

Richard didn't bother responding. Everyone here already knew that. It didn't need repeating.

"Yes, sir. I'm aware," Maya said gently, her smile unwavering.

Ross smirked at her, clearly pleased with himself.

Richard noticed. And he didn't like it.

Ross took his seat, followed by Richard and Maya. Just as they settled in, another man at the table took the mic as the music softened.

"Welcome, everyone," the speaker began. "Tonight, we celebrate a historic partnership. And what better way to begin than with a dance?"

Richard stiffened in his seat.

A dance?

Absolutely not.

He didn't dance. He didn't want to touch anyone. The last thing he needed was more unnecessary contact with humans. Not when he was barely holding himself together.

"Richard, why aren't you getting up?" Ross asked, turning to him with that infuriating smile.

"You go ahead," Richard replied, placing one hand on the table, already preparing to decline.

"Come on, it's a celebration! You have to dance. I'd be very offended if you didn't."

Richard's jaw clenched. He could care less about Ross's feelings. Showing up tonight should've been enough.

Maya watched it unfold, anxiety creeping into her chest.

The first major partnership Steel Corporation had ever accepted. The press was watching. The guests were watching. Ross was a pompous man, yes—but offending him here could still damage something.

She had to help. She had to do something.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she reached out and gently placed her hand over Richard's.

"Why don't we dance, sir?" she asked softly.

Ross clapped, delighted. "Yes! Let's all go and dance!"

Richard froze.

Her hand. Again.

That warmth.

He looked down at where she was touching him. Panic twisted in his chest.

She was touching him. Would she be okay?

He whispered the question to himself, his gaze fixed on her small hand resting so easily in his.

Of course not, a voice in his head whispered back. You know what happens.

He looked up quickly, searching her face for any sign of sickness. But she was smiling. Calm. Completely unaffected.

She stood, her hand still in his, coaxing him to follow.

And he did.

Without thinking, without permission from the wary part of his mind, he got up and followed her into the center of the ballroom.

Maya let go once they arrived, placing her hands gently on his shoulders.

Richard's arms hung by his sides.

"Are you okay, Maya?" he whispered. He needed to hear it from her lips.

"Yes, sir," she replied, her smile still soft, still unwavering.

Her eyes met his—and for a moment, everything slowed.

There was something in his gaze, something unguarded. Almost childlike in its purity. She felt herself pulled in, unable to look away.

He exhaled slowly, then lifted his hands and placed them gently on her waist.

She was warm.

The music began again.

Every note felt like the beginning of something new. The quiet awakening of something unspoken.

Richard moved with her—not with practiced grace, but with cautious precision. Her touch didn't hurt him. Her warmth didn't make him recoil. If anything, it grounded him.

He didn't understand what this was.

He only knew one thing:

For the first time in centuries, Richard Steel threw caution to the wind.

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