The weekend arrived faster than expected, and with it came the most anticipated event of the semester—Damian Blackwood's extravagant birthday party. Damian was the son of one of the richest hotel moguls in the country, and his parties were legendary, filled with excess, indulgence, and secrets waiting to be exposed.
Natasha had no intention of attending. She knew such events weren't meant for people like her, but fate had other plans.
"You're going," Emily insisted, practically shoving a shimmering black dress into Natasha's hands. "I am not letting you rot in this dorm while the entire campus talks about the party of the year."
"I don't belong there," Natasha protested.
"Neither do half the people who go," Emily shot back. "It's all about showing up and making an impression."
And that was how Natasha found herself stepping into the grand ballroom of the Blackwood Hotel, surrounded by flashing lights, hypnotic music, and a sea of students dressed in their finest. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting golden hues over the lavishly decorated space. Bartenders in crisp white shirts served expensive champagne, and waiters carried silver trays of hors d'oeuvres. The air smelled of wealth, ambition, and something intoxicatingly dangerous.
She felt out of place, but then she saw Jayden.
He stood near the balcony, dressed in a tailored dark suit, holding a glass of whiskey with an air of quiet confidence. The moment their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them.
Before she could make her way over, a familiar voice cut through the music.
"What a surprise," Tiffany sneered, her arms crossed. "Didn't think you'd have the nerve to show up."
"It's a party, Tiffany. Not a private club," Natasha replied, keeping her voice steady.
"Funny. Because you look like you stumbled in by accident."
Before Natasha could retort, Damian himself appeared, his deep blue eyes scanning the scene with amusement. "Ladies, let's not cause a scene on my birthday. Natasha, care for a dance?"
The request stunned her. Damian Blackwood, the prince of the elite, was asking her to dance?
Tiffany looked like she had swallowed a lemon.
"I—" Natasha hesitated, but then she saw Jayden watching, his expression unreadable. Something inside her clicked.
"I'd love to," she said, taking Damian's outstretched hand.
The dance floor was a swirling mix of bodies and flashing lights. Damian led her effortlessly, his grip firm yet gentle. "You're interesting, Natasha. Different from the usual crowd."
"Is that a good thing?" she asked cautiously.
"For now," he smirked. "Let's see how the night unfolds."
From across the room, Jayden's jaw tightened as he watched them. Something dark flickered in his eyes. Natasha was stepping into a world she didn't understand, and neither of them knew that this night was only the beginning of something far more dangerous than a simple dance.
---
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit corner of the ballroom, a conversation took place that would set the wheels of fate in motion.
"You're sure she's the one?" a man in a sleek black suit asked, swirling the drink in his hand.
"Positive," another voice responded. "If she gets too close to either of them, things could get messy."
"Then we'll have to make sure she doesn't."
Unaware of the storm brewing around her, Natasha laughed softly as Damian spun her under the golden lights, oblivious to the shadows closing in.