Selina Hart had never seen so much glass and steel in one place.
Kane Enterprises headquarters towered into the New York sky like it owned the sun. The building looked untouchable, like the people who worked inside it. Like the man she was about to meet.
She checked her reflection in the revolving glass door before stepping inside.
Her black blazer was pressed, her blouse clean and crisp. Her dark hair was swept back into a low ponytail. She looked neat, professional… but plain.
Too plain for this world, she thought.
She adjusted the strap of her worn leather bag and walked in.
The lobby was like another planet; marble floors so polished they looked wet, walls lined with modern art worth more than her entire apartment building, and people gliding past in designer suits with coffee cups that probably cost ten dollars each.
Her heels clicked against the marble, a sound that seemed too loud in the hushed, expensive air.
"Miss Hart?" a woman's voice called.
A receptionist with flawless makeup and a diamond bracelet smiled at her. "Mr. Kane is expecting you. Take the private elevator, twenty-second floor."
The private elevator.
Her stomach knotted
Selina stepped inside, pressing the lit-up "22." The doors slid shut, and the air in the elevator seemed heavier. She took a deep breath. This was her chance. If she nailed this marketing pitch, she could secure her biggest client yet—Oliver Kane.
When the doors opened, she stepped into a world of glass-walled offices, sleek furniture, and the faint scent of expensive cologne. She followed the assistant who waved her in.
Then she saw him.
Oliver Kane stood by the window, the New York skyline spilling out behind him. His tailored charcoal suit fit like it had been made for his body which it probably had. Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes that flicked to her with calm assessment before he smiled.
"Miss Hart," he said, his voice smooth and deep. "Please. Come in."
Selina shook his hand. His grip was warm, firm, confident without being aggressive. She sat across from him, pulling her laptop from her bag.
"I appreciate you meeting with me," she said. "I know your schedule is—"
But she stopped when the door opened.
And she walked in.
The first thing Selina noticed was the red dress. Not just red—blood red. Silk that clung to a body that looked like it belonged on magazine covers. Golden hair in soft waves.
Makeup done so perfectly it looked like it wasn't makeup at all. Diamond earrings that caught the light like stars.
"Oliver," the woman said, her tone warm, intimate, familiar.
"Clara," Oliver replied, his voice changing slightly lower, smoother.
Clara's eyes flicked to Selina. And in that single glance, Selina felt weighed, measured, and dismissed. Like she was a thrift store purchase in a room full of couture.
"Oh, I didn't know you had company," Clara said sweetly, though her eyes didn't match her smile.
"This is Selina Hart," Oliver said, gesturing toward her. "She's here to discuss a potential marketing contract."
Clara's smile widened, but there was something predatory in it.
"How… interesting." She stepped closer, the red silk swaying around her legs. "Marketing, you say? That's quite a competitive field."
Selina forced a polite smile. "It is. But I believe I have something unique to offer."
Clara tilted her head. "I'm sure you do."
Oliver's gaze moved between them, as if sensing the subtle crackle of tension. "Clara's an old friend," he explained. "Our families go back a long way."
Old friend. Selina didn't miss the way Clara's hand brushed Oliver's sleeve as she passed him, moving to lean casually against his desk.
"Well," Clara said, glancing at Selina again, "I wouldn't want to interrupt. But Oliver, don't forget the gala tonight. I'll save you a seat."
She gave a small, knowing smile before gliding out, her perfume lingering like smoke.
The door clicked shut.
Selina exhaled, trying not to let the encounter rattle her. "Shall we begin?" she asked.
Oliver nodded, but there was a faint crease in his brow.
The meeting went smoothly, or at least she hoped it did. Oliver asked sharp questions, and Selina answered them with confidence, her hands steady even though her mind kept replaying the red silk and Clara's assessing gaze.
When it was over, Oliver stood and walked her to the elevator.
"I'll review your proposal," he said. "It's… refreshing to see someone with new ideas."
"Thank you," she said, meaning it.
The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside. Oliver gave a polite nod, his expression unreadable. The doors closed.
That night, Selina sat on her couch in her tiny Brooklyn apartment, eating takeout noodles straight from the box. She was scrolling through her phone when a news alert popped up:
Billionaire Oliver Kane Attends Charity Gala with Socialite Clara Bennett
The photo showed them arm in arm, Clara in the same blood-red dress, her hand resting on Oliver's chest as they smiled for the cameras. They looked like they belonged together—two people from the same glittering world.
Selina set her phone down, the noodles suddenly tasting bland.
She told herself it didn't matter. She was here for business, not whatever personal life Oliver Kane had. Clara Bennett was probably just a friend.
But deep down, something in her chest ached. Not jealousy, not exactly. More like the sharp, unpleasant awareness that in the game these people played, she was already starting three moves behind.
The next morning, she received an email.
Subject: Kane Enterprises Marketing Contract
From: Oliver Kane's Office
Selina's pulse quickened as she clicked it open.
We're pleased to inform you that Kane Enterprises would like to move forward with your proposal.
She stared at the words, a smile tugging at her lips. This was it. The opportunity she had been waiting for.
But as she scrolled to the bottom, her smile faltered.
You will be working closely with Clara Bennett, who will oversee the public relations integration of your campaign.
Selina leaned back in her chair, the weight of the email sinking in. Clara Bennett, the woman in red wasn't just some socialite with a pretty face. She had influence here. Real influence.
And Selina had just been handed a front-row seat to whatever game Clara planned to play.
Three days later, Selina stood in the Kane Enterprises conference room, ready to present the first phase of her marketing plan. The room was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, the city spread out below. Oliver sat at the head of the table. Clara sat to his right, wearing icy blue this time, but her smile was just as sharp.
Selina began her presentation, clicking through slides, explaining market strategies and brand positioning. Oliver watched intently, occasionally nodding. Clara, on the other hand, tapped her pen against the table.
When Selina finished, Clara leaned forward. "Interesting approach," she said. "Though I can't help but wonder if it's… ambitious enough for our audience."
Selina kept her expression calm. "Ambition is important," she said, "but so is understanding the customer's needs."
Clara's lips curved. "Of course. Though sometimes, customers don't know what they need until you tell them."
Oliver's gaze flicked between them again. "We'll take this under review."
Selina nodded, gathering her notes. But as she left the room, she knew something for certain: Clara Bennett wasn't going to play fair.
And if Selina wanted to survive here or let alone win, she'd have to learn the rules fast.