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PROLOGUE
SAPPHIRE
Drowning in velvet and doused in perfume…
One of my mom’s favorite sayings came to mind, something she’d always say when it came to these prestigious functions. The first time I’d heard of the annual Luminary Soirée, it sounded like a fairy tale dream, but nothing prepared me for its elaborate decorations, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked manicured gardens, glittery gowns, music, and laughter flowing.
Now standing in its midst… it’s overwhelming.
The glint of gold is everywhere, gleaming with the soft glow of candles. Candelabras line the hallways and walls, crystal chandeliers overhead, silks draped all around us in blues and purples, ice sculptures, a dance floor, the lights dimmed. People are everywhere in exquisite clothes.
It’s too much…
I have to remind myself to breathe because everyone seems like they belong here but me. I’m barely keeping my head above the surface, hoping not to sink.
Tightly clutching the small serving tray in my hand, the cold metal presses into my palm, bringing me back to reality and where I belong.
A red-haired young woman, maybe in her early twenties, strolls toward me with a tight grin. She helps herself to the prosciutto-wrapped sliced figs. Her garnet and gold necklace catches the light, a piece that can easily alone pay off my family’s debts twice over. I hold back the heavy sigh pressing on my chest.
She looks like a princess who deserves to be here—unlike me.
I lift my free hand to the necklace gifted to me by my mom, my fingers brushing her final gift. Clasping the golden, heart-shaped locket fills me with a storm of emotions. It feels like the weight of every tear I’ve cried since her passing. Every secret we shared, every laugh, every single embrace—as though she captured it in this tiny pendant.
For a fleeting moment, I can almost feel the gentle stroke of her fingers through my hair. The ache of her absence stings just as strongly years later.
Swallowing past the thickness in my throat, I wander amid the party in my black waitress dress, offering polite nods and fake smiles. A hand suddenly lands heavily on my backside. My heart catapults against my ribcage, and I turn sharply to a pot-bellied man with thinning silver hair standing behind me, smirking.
I blink, my response stolen by shock, especially seeing he can easily pass as my grandfather. He leans in, and I pull back instinctively.
“When you stare at me like that, darling, it’s an invitation.”
Something comes over me, anger rising through me at his forwardness. My gaze remains unwavering as my response comes rushing out.
“An invitation to serve hors d’oeuvres, sir, not to disrespect me.” Heat climbs up over my cheeks. Just because I’ve been forced to work at the Soirée doesn’t mean I’m here to be mistreated. My stepmother claimed all that glory when she forced me into this job.
Drawing in a steady breath, I retreat as the man mumbles something about me being feisty, but I block him out after that.
Moving through the crowd, I lose myself in the job, admiring the flowing gowns, the men in tailored suits who are focused on the perfect woman to drink with, dance with, and take into the dark corridors of the grand mansion that might as well be a palace. Its sheer size is spectacular, owned by the richest, most powerful man in the country.
Hawk Kline.
Yet no one has seen the man tonight… at his own soirée. Well, at least I assume, as I haven’t yet seen what he looks like, but I hear you’ll never forget the first moment you meet him. In truth, I don’t care if he shows his face, as long as the night passes quickly.
Across the ballroom, I spot my stepmother enjoying the event as a guest. Her invitation came at a price—my labor.
She’s in a tight dress with a low V-neckline, red lips stretched into an exaggerated smile as she flirts with elites. Her two spoiled Pomeranians are on leashes. Wonder how much she had to pay to get them into the party? Probably money we didn’t have to spend, but it’s all about appearances for her. Like the time she told me,Why just exist when you should be the portrait everyone yearns to frame?
When her gaze sweeps to mine, I lower mine and slip back into the sea of glitter and opulence. I made a promise for my family’s sake, for my dad, to wear this uniform and play this role, at least for tonight.
If my father is somewhere far away, trying to secure deals that might pull us out of our family financial crisis, the least I can do is work during one of the biggest nights of the year for the man we owe money to.
One day,I’ll attend such an event as a guest, wrapped in a glittery gown.
A shadow falls over me, and I turn with a smile, lifting my silver platter to a hungry guest. But the burly man in my path just leers at me.
“What’s a beauty like you serving drinks and not out on the dance floor?” His slurred words are thick with alcohol.
I roll my eyes internally. Wonderful… drunk and deluded.
