She pushed through the revolving doors of Maddox Innovations, her curls damp, her chest rising and falling with adrenaline. The lobby was all steel and glass, sleek and intimidating - a sharp contrast to the cozy Brooklyn office she used to work in before she quit six months ago. She hadn't imagined herself stepping into a place like this again so soon.
Especially not for him.
"Elena Carter?" the receptionist asked, barely looking up from her screen.
"Yes. I have a 9AM with Mr. Maddox."
"You're expected. Forty-fifth floor. He's waiting."
Waiting. That single word tightened her chest. What was she even doing here? She was just an independent event planner with a few weddings and two brand launches under her belt. Maddox Innovations was a global tech empire. What could he possibly want with her?
The elevator ride was quiet, sterile. Her reflection in the mirrored walls looked calmer than she felt - bold red lipstick, simple black dress, tired eyes. She whispered to herself: "You need this. Don't screw it up."
The doors opened.
The top floor was surprisingly warm - deep wood tones, floor-to-ceiling windows, and fresh orchids on every corner table. A different world.
"Miss Carter." His voice was calm, smooth. Deeper than she remembered from the interviews and news clips.
She turned.
Grayson Maddox stood behind a glass desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, jacket draped on the chair. He looked like a man who was born to own the world - tall, broad, and dangerous in that quiet, collected way. His dark eyes assessed her quickly, not like a man checking her out - more like someone deciding if she could be trusted.
"I appreciate you coming on such short notice," he said.
"I didn't have much else going on," she replied before she could stop herself.
His lips twitched - a small, almost-smile. "Good. I like honesty."
She stepped closer, clutching her portfolio. "Mr. Maddox, your assistant said you're planning a corporate event?"
"Yes," he nodded, walking toward her slowly. "A benefit gala. Three weeks from now. We need press, trust, elegance. A statement."
"And you want me to plan it?" she asked, brows raised.
"I do."
"But I'm not exactly the high-end planner type," she said. "You could hire any luxury firm in Manhattan."
"I don't want them. I want someone who knows how to create something... real. Personal. Grounded."
"Why me?"
"Because you left a job with one of those luxury firms six months ago after exposing your boss's embezzlement. Because you built your own company from nothing. Because you're not afraid to piss off powerful men." He said it like he admired it. "And because I don't trust many people, but my gut says I can trust you."
Elena blinked. "You did your research."
He nodded once. "I always do."
She opened her folder. "Alright. Let's talk vision."
As they sat across from each other, Elena noticed the way he watched her - not like a man trying to impress her, but like a man who was used to being disappointed and was waiting for her to be the same.
But she wouldn't be.
Because if she got this right, this gig could change everything.
And if she wasn't careful, so could he.
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