In the high-stakes world of New York's elite, real estate tycoon Zane Blackwells and fashion icon Livia Rook defy convention with their passionate love affair. As they navigate corporate battles and familial pressures, their bond faces relentless sc...
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The venue is alive with a refined elegance, a blend of luxury and energy that hums beneath the soft music and quiet conversations. I move through the crowd with practiced ease, offering polite smiles and subtle nods as I take in my surroundings. This isn't my world—at least, not in the way it is for most of these people. I dress them, style them, create for them. But tonight, for the first time, I'm a guest, not just the hands behind the fabric.
My fingers brush against the invitation card tucked inside my clutch, a reminder that I'm here because someone—a man I've never met—wanted me to be. The same man who stood on that stage moments ago, commanding the room effortlessly. The same man wearing the suit I had tailored with such precision, now carrying himself like it was made for him alone.
And maybe it was.
I exhale slowly, trying to shake the strange sensation creeping over me. This isn't the first time a client has appreciated my work, but something about this feels different. More personal. More deliberate.
A waiter passes by with a tray of champagne flutes, and I take one, letting the cool glass settle in my hand. The speech has ended, but my attention is still on the man who gave it. His presence is undeniable, even from across the room. There's something about him—his confidence, his control—that makes it impossible not to notice him.
I take a sip, my gaze drifting to the stage once more. He's stepped down now, weaving through the crowd, speaking with guests, shaking hands. And yet, every so often, his eyes scan the room, as if he's searching for something. Or someone.
I feel my pulse quicken slightly.
Could he be looking for me?
The thought is ridiculous. He doesn't even know who I am. But the way he keeps glancing through the crowd, the way his shoulders seem just a little too tense for someone at his own event—it makes me wonder.
"Livia Rook?"
I turn at the sound of my name, finding myself face-to-face with Richard Cole.
The polite yet authoritative demeanor tells me exactly who he is before he even introduces himself. Zane Blackwell's manager. The man who delivered the invitation in the first place.
"Yes?" I reply, shifting my glass to my other hand.
He offers a practiced smile, one that carries a subtle weight behind it. "Mr. Blackwell has requested that you join him at his table for dinner this evening. He'd like to personally thank you for your work."
My breath catches slightly. The invitation itself had been unexpected, but this? This feels entirely different.
"I..." I hesitate, not out of uncertainty, but because I can feel the weight of the moment settling over me. There's no way to refuse, not without seeming rude. And truthfully, I don't want to.
Richard seems to sense my thoughts, his smile unwavering. "You don't have to decide this second. But the dinner will be starting soon."
I nod, fingers tightening slightly around my glass. "I'll be there."
He inclines his head, then disappears back into the crowd, leaving me standing there with my thoughts spinning.
The man in the suit—the man I crafted for without knowing his face—wants to meet me tonight. And for the first time in my career, a creation of mine has led me straight into the unknown.
One thing is certain—this night has only just begun.
