The gala was a shimmering sea of crystal glasses, whispered deals, and carefully rehearsed smiles. Aria felt like an outsider watching a play she didn't want to be part of, yet somehow, she was right in the center of it all. Her eyes kept drifting toward Jace Walker, the man everyone talked about but no one truly knew.
Jace moved through the crowd like a storm—charismatic, powerful, and unpredictable. The way he laughed too loudly, how his fingers brushed against a woman's arm just a second too long—it was clear he owned the room, and everyone wanted a piece of him. But when his gaze landed on Aria across the room, the crowd seemed to blur, the noise dimmed, and for a moment, it was just the two of them.
Aria felt a strange tug in her chest, an emotion she wasn't ready to name. Revenge had been her only focus for so long that this feeling—something like curiosity, or maybe hope—caught her off guard. She shook the thought away and pulled her jacket tighter around her.
Her phone buzzed softly. A message from Emma lit up the screen:
Are you sure about this?
Aria's fingers hovered over the keyboard. The question echoed in her mind. Was she? Could she really go through with it?
She typed back quickly, I have to be.
No turning back.
Jace approached her, his smile effortless but his eyes sharp, like a wolf sizing up its prey. He stopped beside her, close enough that she could feel the faint heat radiating off his skin.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said, his voice low but laced with a warning that sent a shiver down her spine.
Aria met his gaze, steady and unflinching. "Sometimes the only way to win is to risk everything."
He laughed softly, the sound smooth and genuine, but his eyes never left hers. "What if I'm not your enemy?"
The question hung between them, heavier than the chandeliers above.
Aria's heart betrayed her with a sudden quickening. "Then why hide behind all these masks? What are you really running from, Jace?"
For the first time, the confident playboy looked vulnerable, his jaw tightening as if wrestling with a secret he'd never shared.
"I'm not running from anything," he said, but his voice cracked just a little.
Aria's breath caught. She'd seen that crack before—in mirrors, in memories. The masks people wore to hide their scars.
Suddenly, the gala felt less like a battlefield and more like a fragile dance on glass.
They talked more as the evening slipped away—light banter, veiled challenges, and moments where the walls between them grew thinner. Aria found herself laughing at something Jace said, surprised at how easily his charm could disarm her. But the ache beneath her smile was real, a reminder of why she was here.
When the last song played and the crowd began to thin, Jace surprised her by offering a ride home. The city lights blurred past the windows as the car moved through the quiet streets, filling the space between them with an unspoken tension.
"Who are you, really?" Jace finally asked, breaking the silence.
Aria stared out at the night, her fingers gripping the seat. "Someone who's been hurt," she whispered. "Someone who's learned to fight back."
Jace nodded, understanding more than she expected. "Maybe we're not so different after all."
She looked at him then, the man behind the headlines and rumors—flawed, complicated, and real.
For the first time in a long time, Aria felt hope flicker in the darkness. But hope was a dangerous thing, especially when secrets were involved.
As the car stopped outside her apartment, Jace's hand brushed hers for a brief moment. The contact was electric, setting her skin on fire and leaving her breathless.
"Be careful, Aria," he said quietly. "Not everything is what it seems."
She stepped out into the cool night air, her mind spinning. The line between friend and foe was blurring, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for what was coming.
But one thing was certain: this game was far from over, and both of them were playing with fire.