## Chapter Three – Strings Pulled

Charisse was absolutely glued to that invitation. The shiny gold letters practically singed themselves into her brain.

First, she'd try to hide it by sticking it under her junk mail. Then, she'd yank it back out, staring at it like it was some kind of puzzle. She kept hoping that if she looked at it long enough, it would all click into place and make sense.

But no such luck.

Why her? Seriously? She was just a regular girl, barely making ends meet. She was too proud to ask for a handout, but also too stubborn to just give up and quit trying. And Lucian Blackwell?

He was like a super-rich, powerful god. He was everything she knew she should avoid. He was way out of her league and she could feel danger radiating off of him.

Still...

She couldn't shake the sound of his voice repeating over and over in her head: *wear something black.*

As soon as the sun started to set, she couldn't stop pacing her tiny apartment. Her heart was pounding like crazy, and she was nervously chewing on her nails. She could just toss the invitation. Pretend it never even showed up. Go to bed and wake up and act like it was a normal day.

But she didn't do that.

She was already pulling out that black dress from the back of her closet. The one she got super cheap for a job interview that never actually happened. It wasn't fancy or anything. It was just the best thing she had.

Then, there was a sharp, loud knock at the door that just about made her jump out of her skin.

The driver was super tall and wearing a perfect suit. He didn't say a word, just opened the back door of this really fancy black car.

Miss Duvall, he said simply.

Her throat felt like sandpaper as she got in.

The city outside was a blur of lights and shadows. Every block she got closer to Lucian's world, the tighter the knot got in her stomach.

---

The party was at this fancy hotel downtown. She'd only ever glanced at it from the street. It was all glass and steel, stretching up so high it looked like it was scratching the sky.

The car stopped right at the entrance. Cameras flashed, and women in dresses that probably cost more than she made in a year were getting out.

Her knees felt shaky as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She did not belong here. She just knew it, like she could feel everyone staring and judging.

That's when she saw him.

Lucian.

He was waiting at the top of the steps.

People seemed to move out of his way as he stood there. He looked perfect. A tailored black suit, a bow tie. When he spotted her, his eyes looked right through her.

Every nerve in her body went haywire.

He held out his hand. He didn't smile or say anything, just offered his hand, like it was both an invitation and an order.

Charisse took a breath and put her hand in his.

He gripped her hand firmly.

You came, he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear.

I guess I did, she whispered back.

He looked satisfied for a moment. Then, he tucked her arm into his and led her inside like she'd been going to these parties her whole life.

---

The ballroom was huge. It was dripping with wealth.

Crystal lights were hanging everywhere. The floors were shiny, and waiters were walking around carrying trays with fancy drinks and snacks. The air almost smelled like money and power.

Charisse could feel people looking at her.

Lucian leaned in close to her ear. Ignore them.

Her pulse jumped. They're staring.

They're staring because you're with me.

Her face got hot. She hated how much she liked hearing that.

Lucian guided her through the crowd, People stepped aside for him, men shook his hand with respect, and women smiled at him. He didn't stop to talk to anyone. He just kept his attention on her.

It felt overwhelming.

She realized she was holding her champagne glass really tight. She needed something to keep her steady.

You don't drink, he said.

How do you know that? she asked.

His eyes looked sharp. I just do.

The way he said it made her shiver.

---

Later, Lucian was talking to this senator she'd seen on TV. Charisse took the chance to slip over to the edge of the ballroom. She needed some space. All the wealth and fake smiles were starting to make her head spin.

That's when she overheard something.

Two men were standing near the bar, talking quietly.

...Blackwell is planning things again. Risky ones.

...it doesn't matter. No one stands against him.

...but taking a woman here—does he believe that won’t make her a potential target?

Her stomach dropped.

They were talking about her!

Before she could move, Lucian was suddenly there.

He put his hand on her back, guiding her away from the men.

His grip was tighter than before. Eavesdropping, Charisse? he whispered once they were alone.

I wasn't...

His eyes went right through her. Be careful. Curiosity can be risky.

She started to say something, but stopped.

Even though she was scared, she also felt drawn to him.

---

When the band started playing a waltz, Lucian took her hand and led her onto the dance floor, pulling her close.

Everything else faded away.

His hand was firm at her waist, and he held her hand tightly. She wasn't a dancer, but he guided her along.

Relax, he whispered.

I have no idea how to dance.

You don't need to. Just let me lead.

Her heart was pounding as his breath touched her ear.

It wasn't just a dance. It was him claiming her as his.

By the end of the song, her knees felt weak.

He didn't let go of her.

Why me? she asked.

Lucian didn't show any emotion. Because you're mine.

It felt final.

Before she could say anything, someone interrupted.

Be careful, Miss Duvall.

Charisse turned to see a woman in a red dress. Her lips were painted red, and her eyes were sharp. She forced a smile.

Men like Lucian Blackwell don't let go of things they take, the woman whispered. And when he breaks you, no one will be able to help.

Lucian's hand squeezed Charisse's waist.

But Charisse barely noticed.

Because deep down, she knew that there was one truth.

She didn't want to run.

She wanted him.