The penthouse glittered like sin in disguise. Floor-to-ceiling windows spilled the New York skyline into the room, every light outside blinking like it was in on some dangerous secret. Inside, waiters in crisp black vests floated past with trays of champagne, the air humming with expensive laughter and conversations laced with greed.
Bloom Carter didn't belong here. Not in this world of diamonds and silk, not in a room where the cheapest handbag cost more than her monthly rent. She was here because she'd taken a last-minute catering shift rent was due, her brother's medical bills were piling up, and pride didn't pay the electricity.
Her sneakers squeaked against the polished marble as she carried a tray of champagne flutes through the crowd, careful not to brush too close to the sequined gowns and tailored suits. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on the kitchen door ahead.
And then he stepped in her way.
Ethan Cross.
She didn't know his name yet, but she felt him before she saw him the sudden stillness in the air, the way conversations seemed to pause, the way people instinctively gave him space.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair perfectly styled and a suit that probably cost more than her entire apartment. His jaw was sharp enough to slice through glass, his gaze cold enough to freeze water.
"You're blocking the kitchen," she said flatly, shifting the tray in her hands.
One of his brows lifted, slow and deliberate, like he wasn't used to being spoken to without a title or a tremble. "And you are?"
"Busy," she replied, stepping around him without waiting for permission.
Her heart was still thumping when she pushed through the kitchen door. Not because she found him intimidating she didn't,but because something about the way he'd looked at her made her feel as though he'd peeled back a layer she didn't know she had.
She loaded another tray, this time with tiny gold-rimmed plates of hors d'oeuvres, and slipped back into the party. Her plan was simple: deliver the food, collect her paycheck, and get out before her sneakers started a fashion scandal.
But the universe had other plans.
She caught him watching her from across the room, his gaze heavy, assessing. There were people around him men in sharp suits, women draped in gowns that clung to every perfect curve but his attention didn't waver.
Bloom looked away. She had no interest in whatever game a man like him played. Men with that kind of face, that kind of money, that kind of presence… they were trouble wrapped in a designer suit.
Still, when she moved to the next table, she could feel his eyes on her. It was unnerving, like standing in the center of a spotlight.
What she didn't see was the man in the corner watching him. Dark hair, scarred jaw, eyes that tracked Ethan with something between hate and calculation.
Ethan saw him though. And the sight wiped the faint smirk off his face.
The night went on in a blur of champagne and laughter. But when Bloom slipped out onto the balcony for a moment of quiet, the air shifted again.
"You don't belong here," a voice said behind her.
She turned, tray still in hand, and found him leaning against the railing, the city lights throwing sharp edges across his face.
"Wow. You've got great observational skills," she replied.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "You're not afraid of me."
"Should I be?"
"Most people are."
"Well, I'm not most people."
His gaze lingered on her, something unreadable flickering in those dark eyes. "No. You're not."
Before she could think of a reply, the sliding door opened and one of the suited men from earlier stepped outside, murmuring something low into Ethan's ear.
Whatever it was, it made his jaw tighten. And when his eyes met hers again, the faint warmth was gone.
"Go back inside, Bloom Carter," he said quietly, though she'd never told him her name.
Her breath caught. She wanted to ask how he knew it, but something about the way he said it made her obey.
She didn't realize it then, but that was the moment her life tilted off its axis. Because Ethan Cross wasn't just a man in a su
it. He was the Crown. And she had just stepped into his world.