The company car purred to a stop at the foot of the grand hotel.

Maya sat still for a moment inside the black vehicle, fingers clenched tight around her borrowed clutch. The window gave her a perfect view of the glowing ballroom entrance—tall glass doors held open by suited attendants, gold and crystal lights spilling into the winter evening like a fairytale left ajar.

She was about to enter a world she had no map for.

Jay and Brielle had done everything. Her dress, her hair, her shoes—all carefully chosen, pressed, and perfected. Jay had pulled out a full garment bag of options from the PR closet earlier that afternoon, declaring with full authority that "if you're going to be Mr. Steel's plus one, we're not doing anything halfway."

Brielle had taken over with her usual soft-spoken precision, weaving Maya's hair into something delicate and timeless, pressing a pearl pin just above her ear. And then—after makeup, after double-checking the clasp of the necklace Jay insisted she wear. They both stood back and said nothing for a few beats.

Maya hadn't argued.

She hadn't had the energy. Not when her thoughts were still tangled, she was so nervous, nervous not to mess up, nervous to keep her thoughts of her boss at bay, a complete nervous wreck. 

And still she hadn't seen him since.

Jay had helped her into the car earlier, cracking a joke about how it was practically a red-carpet event and she should walk in like she owned the place. Maya had smiled, but her hands had been shaking the entire drive.

Now she sat frozen, watching other guests step out of cars—men in black tuxedos, women in velvet and silk, laughter bubbling between them like they belonged.

Maya pressed her hand to her chest.

"Breathe. You're just an assistant. It's one evening. You're supposed to blend in." She mumbled.

The driver opened her door.

She stepped out slowly, clutching the edge of her skirt so she wouldn't trip. The dress Brielle picked was a deep shade of midnight blue, fitted at the waist and flowing out with understated elegance. The neckline was modest, but the sleeves swept just off her shoulders. She felt like someone else wearing it. Taller. Quieter. Exposed.

Her heels clicked softly on the polished stone as she walked toward the entrance, heart thudding harder with each step.

The ballroom was already in full swing.

It glowed.

Glass chandeliers bathed the room in warm light, illuminating polished floors, intricate gold archways, and clusters of guests moving like swans in slow, elegant currents. A string quartet played near the far side of the room. Champagne flutes sparkled in every hand.

Maya stood near the threshold, every instinct in her body screaming not to be seen. She was trying to shrink, to make herself disappear, but she knew her dress and hair betrayed her. She didn't look like an assistant tonight. And that scared her.

Then she saw him.

Richard stood in the very middle of it all, tall and unmistakable even from across the room. He wore black, of course. But not the cold, sharp black of work—this suit had a softer sheen, satin-trimmed lapels and a darker pocket square. His tie was silver-gray, matching the subtle shine in his cufflinks. He looked effortless.

He looked like he belonged here.

And then he saw her.

At first, he froze. That was the only explanation for the way everything in him stopped.

Maya stood just beyond the threshold, hesitant, backlit by the soft gold light of the chandeliers. Her dress—simple, midnight blue, fitted at the waist—flowed around her like a hush in a crowded room. Hair pinned up, a pearl glinting near her ear. Eyes wide, like she didn't know where to go.

He blinked once.

And something in his chest tightened.

It was a moment, no more than that. He didn't understand why he noticed her like that, he didn't notice people. Not like this.

He straightened his cuff slowly, eyes narrowing just slightly, as if willing the unfamiliar sensation away.

She looked... different. But not just because of the dress. There was something else. The quietness. The way she didn't demand the room's attention and somehow held it anyway. And the way her hands clutched her clutch like it was armor.

That was what made him pause.

He wasn't sure if it was her or him.

She looked—he hesitated on the word—nice. Too nice.

 Too nice for someone like him.

He stepped forward.

Half the crowd noticed him move.

Her eyes not leaving his as she watched him walk towards her.

They held each other's gaze—no smile, no greeting, just a pause. Like an unspoken question had already passed between them, and neither wanted to answer first.

When he stopped in front of her, Maya swallowed lightly, her voice shy but steady. "Sir?"

"You look..." The word hung for a second longer than he meant it to. He cleared his throat and finished with a firm, "Nice."

Color bloomed in her cheeks. "Thank you, sir."

He tilted his head slightly and motioned toward the ballroom. "Come."

They walked side by side.

He didn't offer his arm.

She didn't expect it.

But there was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before, a near-magnetic awareness of the space between them—how small it was. How loud it felt.

As they entered the heart of the gala, conversation flowed around them like a tide. Waiters passed with champagne. People turned their gazes towards Maya with polite curiosity. She kept close, but not too close, her hands twisting nervously in front of her.

Richard moved through the crowd with ease, reserved, a practiced presence. He spoke to key people when needed, answered questions, nodded at compliments, but there was always a slight lean of his body toward her.

Subtle.

Even when he was speaking to others, his eyes occasionally flicked back to her. Almost like he was checking she was still there. Still okay.

Maya remained silent most of the evening, letting him do the talking. She didn't want to make a mistake. She smiled when appropriate, nodded respectfully, and kept her shoulders straight.

He admired that.

Admired her.

And it unsettled him.

He hadn't meant to write her name on the form. It had been a blur in that moment. His mind elsewhere, hand on autopilot but when Jay handed it back and pointed out the name next to Plus One, he hadn't corrected it.

He didn't know why.

But now, watching her by his side, awkward and clearly feeling out of place but not trying to escape, he wasn't sure he could lie to himself anymore.

Not completely.

He didn't know what this was.

Didn't want to name it.

But it existed. And tonight, it was growing louder.