The memo hit Lila's inbox on Monday morning.
Cross Enterprises Annual Gala
Formal attire required.
Attendance: Mandatory for all employees assisting corporate projects.
Lila nearly choked on her coffee.
"Formal attire?" she muttered, eyes wide.
She couldn't just show up in her normal floral skirts and Converse.
She needed a real dress.
Fancy. Elegant.
Terrifying.
After classes that afternoon.
"Alright, Operation Cinderella is a go," Marissa announced, dragging Lila into a boutique downtown.
"You guys are being dramatic," Lila whined, clutching her backpack like a lifeline.
"Nope," said Caleb, lounging against a rack of dresses. "You're representing Cross Enterprises, babe. You gotta slay."
Lila flushed. "Don't call me babe."
Marissa snickered. "Anyway, let's find you something killer. Damon Cross isn't gonna know what hit him."
Lila rolled her eyes. "I'm not trying to impress Damon Cross. I'm trying not to look like a confused potato."
"Same thing," Marissa said sweetly.
An hour later.
Lila stood in front of the fitting room mirror, fidgeting nervously.
The dress Caleb had picked was...
Well.
It was a silky midnight-blue number, hugging her curves like it was made for her, the neckline modest but the fit undeniably feminine.
Her waist looked smaller.
Her hips looked... wow.
Even her normally invisible cleavage peeked out a little.
"I can't wear this," she gasped.
"You have to wear it," Caleb said from outside the curtain. "You look insane."
Marissa whistled. "Girl. If I didn't like you, I'd push you into traffic out of jealousy."
Lila laughed, but inside she was panicking.
Still...
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Maybe no one would even notice.
The night of the gala.
Damon hated parties.
He hated small talk, fake smiles, handshakes with people he didn't trust.
The only reason he showed up at the Cross Enterprises gala every year was out of grim necessity.
He tugged at his black tie, feeling trapped already, and scanned the glittering crowd for Lila.
He didn't know why.
He just... wanted to make sure she wasn't lost.
And then he saw her.
Across the ballroom.
Laughing.
Spinning around to show her dress to Caleb — who was standing far, far too close.
For a split second, Damon forgot how to breathe.
She wasn't wearing anything scandalous.
Wasn't even trying to be sexy.
And yet.
The midnight-blue fabric caressed her curves like a second skin.
Her hair was curled softly, makeup light but dazzling.
Her smile was a spotlight in the dark.
Damon's hand clenched painfully around his glass.
Caleb said something, leaning in to whisper at her ear —
and Lila laughed, bumping his shoulder playfully.
Red clouded Damon's vision.
Without thinking, he crossed the room, every step a silent warning.
At Lila's side.
"Hey, bossman!" Lila chirped, spinning around and almost tripping over her heels. "You made it!"
Damon caught her by the elbow before she could fall, his grip tightening reflexively.
"You look—"
He stopped.
The words jammed in his throat.
Perfect. Stunning. Mine.
"Fine," he said stiffly, voice rough.
Lila beamed. "Thanks! Caleb picked the dress."
Damon's jaw locked.
Caleb smirked. "Told you she cleans up nice."
Damon turned his slow, lethal gaze on him.
"Get me another drink," he said coldly.
Caleb blinked. "Uh... sure?"
He wandered off, looking confused.
Lila frowned. "You didn't have to be mean—"
"You're working tonight," Damon interrupted, voice clipped. "Stay close."
"Bossy," she muttered under her breath.
"You have no idea," Damon said darkly.
He didn't let go of her arm until he had her safely stationed at his side.
And the entire night, no matter how many partners tried to steal her away for a dance,
no matter how many clients angled for her attention,
Damon kept her tethered close.
He told himself it was for her own good.
He told himself it was because she was representing the company.
He lied to himself all night.
Because the truth was far uglier.
Far hungrier.
He didn't want anyone else looking at her.
He didn't want anyone else touching her.
And most dangerous of all —
He didn't want her smiling at anyone the way she smiled at him.
Not anymore.