The dress fit like a secret.
Black velvet, sculpted to curves I barely recognized. It pooled at my feet like spilled ink and clung to my waist like a whisper I wasn't sure I deserved.
Reyna Lancaster didn't wear doubt. She wore luxury.
I stared at the stranger in the mirror again, the soft halo of apartment light casting faint gold on my collarbone. My curls had been straightened and pulled back into a sleek chignon. Smoky eyes. Blood-red lips. A diamond teardrop glinting from each earlobe. Everything about me had been calculated to perfection.
And yet…
My hands still trembled.
I grabbed the edge of the vanity, grounding myself.
You're not Leona Vale tonight. You're Reyna. Remember?
Breathe.
A buzz from my encrypted phone broke the silence.
LANCE: Black SUV downstairs. Use your alias. You're on the list. Good luck.
Lance was the only one who knew everything—my tech contact, hacker, and the closest thing I had to backup. He'd built Reyna's online footprint from scratch. Given her a presence so convincing that Wolfhart's people not only noticed her—they invited her.
This gala… it was more than a socialite's playground.
It was my warpath.
I took one last look in the mirror and whispered to myself, "Time to meet the devil."
Wolfhart Tower loomed above Midtown like a dagger carved in obsidian. Thirty-five stories of steel and tinted glass, designed to intimidate. The SUV slowed outside the grand entrance, where a red carpet unfurled like a bleeding promise. Security guards flanked the doors. Paparazzi lights flashed in a frenzy.
I stepped out, heels clicking on polished stone, the cold New York wind curling around my bare shoulders like claws. A camera swung in my direction.
"Reyna Lancaster!" someone shouted. "Lancaster Ventures has never appeared at Wolfhart events before. Are you here to make a statement?"
I turned my head slightly, just enough to give a coy, practiced smile. My voice, sultry and smooth, slid past my lips like silk. "Statements are for politicians, darling. I'm just here for the champagne."
Click. Flash. Flash.
Let them wonder.
A security guard with an earpiece stepped forward and scanned my invitation.
"Welcome, Miss Lancaster. You're cleared for Level 31. VIP suite."
I nodded and ascended the marble steps like I owned the damn place.
Inside, everything reeked of wealth. Polished mahogany, crystal chandeliers, and a string quartet playing something soft and dramatic. Waiters glided past in black and white, carrying champagne flutes that cost more than my old rent.
I didn't drink yet.
Not until I saw him.
Cassian Wolfhart.
The man who tore my sister's life apart with a smile.
The reason Maya hadn't opened her eyes in three weeks.
I scanned the room.
He wasn't there yet.
But I spotted his inner circle—Miles Grange, CFO, sleazy and always eyeing the newest interns. Lillian Dart, HR rep turned fixer. Three others I recognized from my file, all circling like vultures around a gold-plated cage.
I was the fox.
And I had to act like I belonged.
"Reyna Lancaster," came a voice behind me, deep and cool like midnight rain.
I turned.
And there he was.
Cassian.
Tall. Devilishly tall. Dressed in a black tux that hugged his lean frame, crisp lines sharp enough to cut. His jaw was carved, his hair slicked back in effortless control. But it was his eyes that got me—gray and stormy, watching me not like prey… but like a puzzle.
I forced a small smile. "You must be Cassian Wolfhart."
"Guilty," he replied, offering his hand. "Though I didn't expect to find you gracing my event."
I took his hand.
Electric.
His grip was firm, and warm—dangerously warm.
"I don't attend many galas," I said smoothly. "But I heard this one had particularly good music. And even better company."
He chuckled. "Careful. Flattery will have people thinking you're after something."
"I usually get what I'm after."
"Do you now?"
Our eyes locked, a dangerous game of chicken neither of us wanted to lose.
He led me toward the upper balcony, overlooking the main ballroom. Gold railings, velvet seating. Champagne appeared before I even asked.
He took a sip of his own and leaned slightly toward me.
"So, Miss Lancaster. Tell me. Why tonight?"
"Why not?"
"You're not on the usual circuit. Most people here are either investors… or enemies. Which are you?"
I tilted my head. "What if I said I could be both?"
He grinned, amused. "Then I'd be intrigued."
God, he was good.
Too good.
Every word from his mouth was calculated, measured. He was testing me—but also admiring the game. And I couldn't afford to flinch.
"So what is it you actually do, Reyna?" he asked, the glass gleaming in his hand. "I've seen headlines, whispers… but never details."
"I manage my late father's estate. Quietly. We prefer… discretion."
"Discretion is an art form," he said. "Some say I've mastered it."
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Only the insecure claim to be masters."
He laughed, a low, genuine sound that made my stomach tighten—for the wrong reasons.
"You know," he said, "I like you."
"That's unfortunate."
"Why's that?"
"Because liking me usually comes with consequences."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I enjoy a challenge."
I sipped my champagne slowly, letting the bubbles sting my throat. Cassian Wolfhart had no idea who I was. No clue that I'd memorized his routines, watched hours of footage, hacked into his boardroom files, and traced every whisper around my sister's assault back to him.
He thought I was Reyna Lancaster, mystery heiress.
That was good.
Because if I was going to destroy him, I had to become his desire first.
His weakness.
And I could already see it in the way his eyes lingered on my lips.
He was curious.
Hooked.
"Dance with me," he said, offering his hand again.
I hesitated, then slid my fingers into his palm.
This was it.
The beginning.
As we moved into the ballroom, the music swelled. Our bodies aligned like fate and sin, and Cassian's hand settled on my waist like he'd known me forever. We danced in silence, eyes locked, steps deliberate.
"You're dangerous," he murmured.
"And you're slow to notice," I whispered back.
But inside, I screamed.
Because the man who hurt my sister was holding me close.
And I had to make him fall in love with the very woman sent to ruin him.