Chapter One

"Looks like you're lost."

Caitlin Humphries froze. The man's voice behind her was calm, almost casual—yet charged enough to make her hair stand on end. She held her breath, then slowly turned around.

A young man in a black suit stood just a few steps away. The sharp cut of his suit embraced his athletic frame, radiating precision and power. His gaze was calm, unreadable. A faint smile played on his lips, as if he were observing a deer that had stumbled into a lion’s den.

"I..." Caitlin swallowed. "I’m just looking for a way out."

The man raised an eyebrow. "The event’s barely started. Why the rush?"

He took a few steps closer, prompting Caitlin to instinctively step back. She raised one hand, a silent signal for him to keep his distance. Her heart raced, and the world suddenly felt much smaller.

"I shouldn’t be here," she whispered.

She didn’t even know why she had come to this charity gala. She should’ve declined her boss’s offer—a gift ticket to the event—and ignored the impulse to borrow a dress from an acquaintance.

Curiosity, maybe. Or just a break from her dull routine. But now, she regretted it. This place was too glamorous. Too dazzling for someone like her.

The man blinked. "Who says that?"

Without waiting for an answer, he held out his hand. "Come with me. The guests are waiting inside."

Before Caitlin could retreat again, he took her hand—gently, but with unmistakable purpose—and led her into the ballroom.

Caitlin gasped. She tried to pull away, but it was no use. His grip was warm yet firm.

Classical music greeted them. Couples swayed in the center of the room beneath a grand crystal chandelier, creating an atmosphere that was both opulent and surreal.

As they walked in, eyes immediately turned their way. Low murmurs rippled through the room. As if by unseen command, the dancers cleared a path, allowing the two of them to step forward. Caitlin felt hundreds of eyes tracking her every move.

She couldn’t hide her unease. She bit her lip and parted it slightly.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, panicked. "Everyone’s watching us."

"That was the point," he said smoothly. "And I want to dance with you."

Caitlin tried to shake off his hand. "I don’t know how to dance."

She turned to flee. But he caught her waist and gently pulled her back, bringing her face-to-face with him. She stood inches from his broad chest.

"Just follow my lead," he murmured. "You’re safe with me."

His hands guided her. One clasped her fingers tightly, the other rested at her waist. His movements were steady, assured, leaving Caitlin no room to resist.

For a moment, she forgot everything. Her legs, stiff at first, slowly began to mirror his steps. To her surprise, her body responded effortlessly to his rhythm. The delicate tinkle of the piano carried them across the dance floor like they belonged there.

The lights above reflected off the crystal chandeliers, scattering rainbows on the polished floor. Caitlin’s heels clicked softly, but even that sound was absorbed by the smooth music and elegant murmurs.

"What’s your name?" he asked, his voice low and close to her ear.

Caitlin looked down, hesitant. Her mind scrambled for an excuse to leave. But before she could speak, he dipped his head slightly, brushing a hand across the open back of her dress and drawing her just a bit closer.

"You must have a name," he said, smiling faintly.

As the music faded, they stepped off the dance floor. Caitlin finally exhaled. "Caitlin. Caitlin Humphries."

The man stopped in his tracks. Something flickered in his eyes—interest, deeper than before.

"A beautiful name," he said softly. "As beautiful as its owner." He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "I’m Arion McCallen. You can call me Arion."

Caitlin stiffened. That name... of course she knew it. It was too familiar. She’d read about Arion McCallen countless times in the tabloids—owner of one of London’s top IT companies and heir to The McCallen Hotels, his family’s luxury hotel empire. Wealthy. Striking. Brilliant. And, as the media often put it, practically untouchable.

"I need to go," Caitlin said quickly, trying to compose herself.

Arion gave a slight shake of his head. "Not yet. The party’s still going."

But before Caitlin could respond, someone interrupted. A tall man—a well-known politician—approached Arion and started a conversation.

Caitlin seized the chance. She glanced at Arion one last time, then slowly stepped away. As Arion listened to the man, she slipped into the crowd. Her steps were quick and purposeful.

She left the ballroom, strode through the hotel’s empty corridor, and pushed open a door leading to the cold night air. Relief washed over her. She smiled. Free at last.

The wind tugged at her borrowed dress as she descended the stone steps and disappeared into the shadows. Her heart still raced—not from fear, but from something she couldn’t name.

Caitlin took off her shoes because they were making it difficult to walk. She threw them in the trash. She walked quickly and hailed a passing taxi in front of the hotel.

Without waiting, she immediately got in. As the taxi drove slowly away, she looked back and felt relieved that no one was following her.

Back inside, Arion was still talking—until the politician finally gave a nod and walked away.

"Good evening, Mr. McCallen. I hope we’ll work together soon."

Arion gave a polite nod. But as the man left, his attention shifted immediately. He scanned the room, searching for the woman he’d just danced with. But she was gone.

Caitlin had vanished.

"Damn it..." he muttered, jaw tightening.

He strode toward his assistant, who was stationed near the bar. "Did you see the woman I was with earlier?"

The assistant shook his head. "No, sir. But I can check the CCTV."

"Do it. And find out everything you can about Caitlin Humphries."

The assistant hurried off.

Arion remained in the center of the ballroom, but his thoughts were elsewhere—on the mysterious woman who had appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as quickly.

She had stirred something in him. He didn’t know what it was, but it gripped him tighter than logic or reason.

And for some reason, he needed to know more.