Natasha stood in front of the grand mirror in her dorm room, staring at her reflection. The deep crimson dress Emily had picked out for her hugged her figure perfectly, the silky fabric pooling at her feet like liquid fire. She barely recognized herself.
"You look stunning," Emily said, standing behind her with a proud smile. "Damian won't know what hit him."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Natasha muttered, adjusting the delicate diamond earrings she had borrowed from Emily.
Her nerves were on edge. This wasn't just any event—it was the Blackwood Gala, an elite gathering where only the most powerful families and their heirs were invited. Natasha wasn't supposed to be part of that world. Yet, here she was, stepping into a den filled with predators.
The moment she arrived at the grand Blackwood estate, she felt the weight of countless gazes falling upon her. The mansion was breathtaking—chandeliers dripped with crystals, golden walls reflected the soft candlelight, and waiters in sharp tuxedos floated around with trays of champagne. It was a world of extravagance, but beneath the polished surface, she sensed something far more sinister.
Damian found her within minutes. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he exuded confidence and power. He extended his hand to her, his lips curving into a smirk. "Shall we?"
She hesitated for only a second before slipping her fingers into his. The moment their skin touched, a hush seemed to fall over the room. She wasn't just another guest—she was Damian Blackwood's choice for the night, and that meant something.
As they moved through the ballroom, Natasha could feel the tension thick in the air. Women glared, men whispered. Tiffany stood at the far end of the room, fury burning in her eyes. Jayden was there too, leaning against a marble pillar, a storm raging beneath his calm exterior.
"Everyone is watching us," Natasha whispered.
Damian chuckled. "Let them."
Just as she was about to respond, an older man approached them. His presence commanded respect, his sharp eyes scanning her with a mixture of curiosity and judgment. Damian straightened immediately.
"Father," he greeted. "This is Natasha."
Natasha felt her breath hitch. This was Damian's father—the man who controlled more than half the city's wealth, the man who decided who was worthy and who wasn't.
"Natasha," Mr. Blackwood said smoothly, offering a cold smile. "Let's see if you can handle our world."
A chill ran down her spine. This wasn't just a party. It was a test. And failure wasn't an option.