The Night The CEO Claimed Me

The Fifth Avenue

Beauty’s POV

The driver didn’t just park; he pulled into a private, cordoned-off spot right in front of a building that didn't even have a name on it,just a heavy gold handle and a silent man in a suit standing guard. My hands were still shaking as I stepped out, my cheap heels clicking against the pristine sidewalk of Fifth Avenue. I felt like a smudge of dirt on a white silk sheet.

Before I could even wrap my head around where I was, the heavy glass doors swung open. A woman stepped out, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. She was tall, model tall with a sharp, dark bob that looked like it was cut with a laser. She was wearing a cream-colored silk suit that probably cost more than my entire university tuition.

She didn't walk; she marched toward me, her eyes scanning me from my frizzy hair down to my scuffed shoes in three seconds flat.

"You must be Beauty," she said. Her voice wasn't cold like Travis’s. It was bright, fast, and a little bit wild. She didn't wait for me to answer. She just looped her arm through mine and started pulling me inside. "I’m Elena. Travis’s cousin. The favorite one, obviously, since he called me sounding like he was having a controlled heart attack."

"I... it’s nice to meet you," I managed to choke out. The lobby of the store smelled like expensive lilies and old money. I felt the security guard’s eyes on my worn out bag with the peeled leather. I wanted to disappear.

Everything in here was too quiet, too polished. I felt my face heating up, that familiar red crawl of embarrassment reaching my ears. I shifted the weight of my bag , the chain handle damp from my sweaty palms. I looked down at my feet. My shoes weren't flashy they were just old. Low-heeled, sensible black pumps I’d bought at a thrift store three years ago. The leather was peeling at the toes, and one of the heels made a tiny, pathetic clicking sound that seemed to echo off the marble walls like a gunshot.

"Oh, honey, stop looking like you’re waiting for someone to arrest you," Elena laughed, whisking me into a private elevator that was lined with actual velvet. She pressed a button for the top floor. "Travis called me twenty minutes ago. He spoke more words in one phone call than he has in the last three years. Do you have any idea how historic this is?"

"He just... he said I needed a new wardrobe," I whispered, clutching my bag.

Elena turned to me as the elevator climbed, her expression shifting from excitement to something a bit more real. She reached out and tucked a loose, frizzy strand of my hair behind my ear.

"He said 'everything from the skin out,'" she said, her voice dropping. "And he said the price doesn't exist. Beauty, I’m going to be honest with you. I didn't think he had a pulse anymore. Not since he left that blood-sucking b***h, Juliana. She nearly drained the life out of him and the family name. Since her, he’s been like a ghost in a suit."

My heart skipped. Juliana. I let the name settle in my mind, cold and sharp. I didn't know who she was, but the way Elena spat the name made it sound like a curse. Was she a former lover? A business rival? I wondered what kind of woman could make a man like Travis Pierce turn into a ghost. I wondered if she was tall, blonde, and perfect, or if she was a shark just like him.

The elevator gave a tiny, elegant chime, and the doors slid open to a suite that looked like it belonged in a museum. Racks of silk and cashmere stretched out as far as I could see.

"I'm just an analyst," I said, my voice small, almost cracking as I took in the sheer wealth of the room. "I don't belong here, Elena. I don't know how to be... whoever Travis thinks I am."

"Travis thinks you belong here. And Travis doesn't make mistakes with his money," she said with a wicked little grin as the doors dinged open. "Now, drop that sad little bag. We have two hours to turn you into the kind of woman who can make Travis pierce choke on his steak tonight. And trust me, I’m very good at my job."

I set the bag down by a velvet chair. It looked so out of place next to the crystal vases and the silver trays of macaroons. I felt like an intruder, a fake, a girl playing dress-up in someone else’s life. Elena was already humming, flipping through a rack of dresses with the speed of a professional gambler dealing cards.

I looked out into the VIP suite. It was filled with racks of silks, wools, and leathers in colors I didn't even have names for deep plums, midnight blues, and creams that looked like heavy cream poured over a plate. There was champagne on a marble table, the bubbles rising slowly in thin, fragile glasses. It was a fairy tale, but as I looked at Elena’s excited face, I realized it was a fairy tale with a very high price tag. I wasn't just getting a dress. I was getting armor for a war I wasn't sure I could win.

"Let's start with the shoes," Elena said, dragging me toward a wall of heels that glinted under the recessed lighting. She glanced down at my peeling, low-heeled pumps and made a small, tsking sound that felt like a pinprick to my pride. "Because no woman can conquer the world in those flats, darling. Not today. Tonight, we’re going for heights. We’re going for power."

She pulled out a pair of black stilettos that looked more like weapons than footwear. I stared at them, my stomach doing a nervous flip. I’d never worn anything that high in my life. I was a flat-shoes-and-bus-rides kind of girl.

"I’ll fall," I whispered, staring at the thin, dangerous heels.

"Then you’ll grab Travis’s arm and make him hold you up," Elena said, winking at me as she shoved the shoes into my hands. "That’s what billionaires are for, isn't it?"

I looked at the shoes, then back at the elevator doors. I could still run. I could go back to the 4th floor, apologize to Chloe ,tell her the truth and find a way to pay off that mortgage for the next forty years. But I knew I wouldn't. I could still feel the phantom heat of Travis’s gaze on me from the mezzanine. I was his investment now. And it was time to start looking like I was worth every penny.