The moment they arrived at the grand venue, Xander stepped out of the car with his usual nonchalance, brushing a hand through his tousled dark hair before turning toward the other side. He pulled open the door, and Erin gracefully stepped out, the hem of her dress catching the low evening light. Her backless gown shimmered like liquid midnight, hugging her figure with an elegance that stole the breath of every onlooker.
And every onlooker was staring.
Xander wasn't a man who got flustered easily. He prided himself on being composed—even bored, most of the time—but this? This was something else entirely.
He felt the air shift. Male gazes snapped toward Erin like moths to a flame. A few women's eyes followed as well, most with envy, others with intrigue.
And her back. That back.
Delicate. Smooth. Bare.
He didn't even think about it. His hand moved before he gave himself the chance to second guess, settling over her lower back possessively—no, protectively. She stiffened for a fraction of a second, but her expression remained composed, lips gently curved, eyes forward.
"You're doing this on purpose," he murmured lowly, lips just inches from her ear as he leaned in to whisper.
"Doing what?" she replied, her tone cool and unreadable.
"That dress," he muttered. "It's a hazard."
She smiled without looking at him. "You picked it."
He hadn't. She'd rejected the dress he had chosen for her. This one was hers—and it was far more dangerous than anything he could've imagined.
They walked into the banquet hall together, his hand never leaving her back. The moment they entered, the atmosphere shifted. The room was already lively with well-dressed elites, socialites, investors, and media personnel, but now, all eyes subtly flickered toward the pair of them.
His staff bowed discreetly as they passed, and a few acquaintances approached to greet him. Xander nodded back coolly, offering the bare minimum of pleasantries—until one of the board members turned to Erin with a welcoming smile.
"And who might this be?"
Before Xander could speak, Erin extended her hand, calm and poised. "Erin Lane. Aide to Mr. Volkov for the evening," she said smoothly.
The board member shook her hand. "Aide, is it? Well, you carry yourself with grace, Miss Lane. A rare sight in our circles these days."
"Thank you. I've always believed presentation is the first language of professionalism," she replied, her voice like silk—polished and effortless.
Xander blinked.
Where had that come from?
The Erin Lane he knew flung sarcasm like knives and folded laundry like it had offended her. Yet here she was, socializing with the poise of someone born into this world. Her words were careful, crisp, and tailored. She laughed lightly when appropriate, nodded with nuance, and carried herself like someone who'd attended these functions all her life.
And maybe… she had.
The thought sat uncomfortably in the back of his mind as more people joined their circle. A business magnate from Europe, a former senator, two investors from Dubai. Each of them, drawn in by Erin.
She spoke to each person fluently, switching between polite tones, charming replies, and subtle flattery like it was second nature.
Xander stood there, offering occasional comments where required, but he mostly watched her.
The curiosity gnawed at him.
Who was she?
Because the Erin standing beside him wasn't a maid—not by training, and certainly not by status.
He narrowed his eyes just slightly as she smiled at yet another guest, her lips curving around clever, thoughtful answers that kept her mysterious and dignified.
She was hiding something.
And he hated that he couldn't put his finger on it. At least now he knew her first name is Erin. It won't be hard to figure it out now.
At some point, they drifted from the circle, Erin stepping away to the refreshment table with grace. He followed a step behind, his presence towering and unreadable.
"Didn't think you had it in you," he said as he grabbed a drink, eyeing her over the rim of his glass.
She didn't look at him. "Had what?"
"That weird ability to not sound like a walking attitude problem."
She offered him a smile that was anything but sweet. "Don't tell me you're falling for your maid. That would be very off-brand of you."
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "I think I'm more concerned that my maid speaks like she has a ten-figure trust fund and a private diplomat."
She turned her eyes to him, blue irises gleaming under the golden chandeliers. "I've read a lot of books."
"Sure you have."
There was a beat of silence between them—too heavy to be casual.
Then she plucked a drink for herself and looked around the crowd. "You don't seem the type to enjoy these things either."
"I enjoy watching people pretend they like each other for money."
"Ah," she said, "cynicism. Your truest love."
He smirked. "And sarcasm is yours."
The air between them thickened, and for a second, she looked up at him—really looked. The way his grey eyes studied her made her chest tighten, just for a moment. But she shook it off, turning away with a quick sip of her drink.
He followed her gaze to the crowd, his hand brushing her lower back again, this time more deliberately.
"You didn't have to dress like that," he murmured again, teasing edge returning to his voice.
"And you didn't have to bring a maid to an elite event," she quipped back.
"Touche."
He hated to admit it, but having her here… like this… it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt oddly natural. Her presence balanced out his arrogance, absorbed attention from him, and softened his sharper edges without even trying. People seemed to look at him differently when she stood beside him. Softer. More curious. Less wary.
He glanced at her again, and for the briefest moment, she caught him staring.
"What?"
"You're not what I expected," he said.
She arched a brow. "Is that a compliment?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Miss Lane."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Volcov."
Their eyes held for just a second longer than they should have.
Then, the moment broke. A waiter passed by and Erin stepped aside with a polite nod.
Xander exhaled slowly and took another sip of his drink, still watching her from the corner of his eye.
'Who was she?' He thought.