The city was a blur of neon and shadow as Eva stepped out of the cab, her heels clicking against the wet pavement. The rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy with the scent of asphalt and possibility. She adjusted the neckline of her black dress, a form-fitting number she'd chosen for its ability to command attention without screaming for it. Tonight wasn't about desperation—it was about control. And Eva was determined to wield it like a weapon.
Her reflection in a nearby shop window caught her eye: sharp cheekbones, lips painted a deep crimson, eyes smoldering with a fire she hadn't felt in days. The girl who'd sobbed on her apartment floor was gone, buried beneath layers of resolve and rage. In her place stood a woman ready to play a dangerous game, one where hearts were pawns and betrayal was the prize.
Victor Blackwood's charity gala was the perfect stage. Eva had learned about it from Liam's offhand mention months ago—his father's annual event to flaunt the Blackwood family's wealth and influence. Politicians, CEOs, and socialites would be there, sipping champagne under crystal chandeliers, but Eva had only one target. Victor. The man who could unravel Liam's world with a single misstep.
She'd done her research. Victor was 48, a widower with a reputation for charm and ruthlessness. He ran Blackwood Enterprises with an iron fist, and his approval meant everything to Liam. Eva had seen it in the way Liam spoke of him, a mix of awe and desperation to prove himself. If she could get close to Victor—close enough to make him want her—she'd have the power to destroy Liam's carefully constructed life. The thought sent a thrill through her, dark and intoxicating.
The venue loomed ahead, a grand hotel with marble columns and a red carpet swarming with photographers. Eva handed her invitation to the doorman, a forgery she'd paid a small fortune for. It was a risk, but she'd planned every detail. No one would question her presence. Not tonight.
Inside, the ballroom was a sea of opulence: gold-trimmed walls, towering floral arrangements, and the hum of a string quartet. Eva scanned the crowd, her pulse quickening. She spotted Liam across the room, his arm around Sophia, who sparkled in a silver gown. They were laughing, their heads bent close, oblivious to the storm brewing in Eva's heart. The sight of them together was a knife to her chest, but she forced herself to look away. Not yet. She wasn't here for them.
Her eyes found Victor near the bar, a commanding figure in a tailored black suit. His dark hair was streaked with silver, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass. He was surrounded by admirers, but his posture—relaxed yet untouchable—made it clear he was in control. Eva's breath caught as his gaze flicked toward her, a fleeting moment that sent a jolt through her. He didn't know her plan, but those eyes, piercing and unreadable, seemed to see straight through her.
She took a deep breath and made her move, weaving through the crowd with deliberate grace. Every step was calculated, her hips swaying just enough to draw attention. She reached the bar and ordered a martini, positioning herself a few feet from Victor. Close enough to be noticed, far enough to seem uninterested.
"Evening," a deep voice said, and Eva's heart skipped. Victor had turned toward her, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Up close, he was even more imposing—tall, broad-shouldered, with a presence that made the air feel heavier. His eyes raked over her, slow and deliberate, lingering on the curve of her neckline before meeting her gaze.
"Evening," she replied, her voice low and smooth. She tilted her head slightly, letting her hair fall over one shoulder. "Enjoying the circus?"
Victor's lips twitched, a hint of amusement in his otherwise guarded expression. "It's a necessary evil. And you? You don't strike me as the gala type."
Eva sipped her martini, letting the burn of the alcohol steady her nerves. "Maybe I'm here for the free drinks," she said, her tone teasing. "Or maybe I'm just… curious."
"Curious?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "About what, exactly?"
She held his gaze, her lips curving into a slow, provocative smile. "About the kind of man who commands a room like this. Power's an interesting thing, don't you think? It draws people in… or pushes them away."
Victor's eyes darkened, a flicker of intrigue crossing his face. "And which are you? Drawn in or pushed away?"
"That depends," she said, leaning just close enough for him to catch the faint scent of her perfume. "On whether you're worth getting close to."
The air between them crackled, thick with unspoken tension. Eva's heart pounded, but she kept her expression cool, her movements deliberate. She was walking a tightrope, and one wrong step could ruin everything. But Victor's gaze didn't waver, and the way his fingers tightened around his glass told her she'd hooked him—at least for now.
"Bold," he said, his voice laced with something dangerous. "I like bold. But be careful, Miss…?"
"Eva," she said, omitting her last name. Let him wonder. "And I'm always careful."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "We'll see about that."
Before he could say more, a woman in a sequined gown interrupted, pulling Victor into a conversation about some business deal. Eva took the opportunity to slip away, her pulse racing. She'd planted the seed. Now she needed to let it grow.
She found a quiet corner of the ballroom and leaned against a pillar, her mind spinning. The encounter with Victor had been electric, more than she'd expected. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of danger and allure that made her skin tingle. But she couldn't let herself get lost in it. This wasn't about desire—it was about revenge.
Her eyes drifted back to Liam and Sophia, who were now on the dance floor. Sophia's arms were around Liam's neck, her body pressed against his as they swayed to the music. The sight was a fresh wound, and Eva's fingers tightened around her glass. She could still hear their voices from the video, their cruel laughter, their filthy promises. The memory was a fire in her chest, fueling her resolve.
Flashback
Eva's mind slipped back to the night she'd confronted Liam. It had been hours after she'd seen the video, her apartment a wreck of shattered glass and overturned furniture. She'd called him, her voice shaking with rage, and demanded he come over. He'd arrived looking confused, his boyish charm in full force—until she played the video.
His face had gone pale, his excuses stumbling over each other. "It was a mistake, Eva. It didn't mean anything. Sophia came onto me, and I was drunk, and—"
"Stop lying!" Eva had screamed, tears streaming down her face. "You said you loved her! You said I was nothing!"
Liam's expression had hardened then, his mask slipping. "Maybe you are nothing," he'd spat, his voice cold. "Maybe I'm tired of pretending you're enough."
The words had hit her like a slap, stealing her breath. She'd stared at him, the man she'd loved, and seen a stranger. "Get out," she'd whispered, her voice breaking. "Get out and never come back."
He'd left without anotherr word, and Eva had collapsed, her sobs echoing in the empty apartment. Sophia hadn't answered her calls, hadn't responded to her texts. The silence was its own betrayal, a confirmation that their friendship had been a lie.
.....…
The memory snapped Eva back to the present, her jaw clenching. Liam's cruelty, Sophia's betrayal—they'd stripped her bare, but they hadn't broken her. Not completely. She was still here, still fighting. And she'd make them pay.
She glanced at Victor, who was now across the room, his eyes meeting hers for a brief, searing moment. The connection was undeniable, a pull she hadn't anticipated. It unnerved her, this flicker of genuine attraction. She couldn't afford to feel anything real—not for him, not for anyone. This was a game, and she was playing to win.