Meant To Be

The ballroom of the Sterling Grand shimmered like a dream crystal chandeliers glittered, champagne flutes clinked, and the scent of roses floated in the air. The annual Starlight Charity Gala was the place to be if you were rich, powerful, or desperate to look like both. Elena Cole adjusted the diamond clasp of her gown as she stepped inside. Heads turned of course they did. She was Cole Fashion’s golden heiress, draped in a dress of her own design. But as always, the attention felt hollow. Were they staring at her… or at the empire her last name carried? “Miss Cole!” a swarm of photographers shouted from across the hall. Elena smiled politely, then escaped toward the champagne tray. If she had to endure one more fake compliment tonight, she might actually set her gown on fire. That was when she saw him. Tall, broad shoulders, Jet-black tuxedo that looked custom-tailored. He was standing near the drinks table, scanning the room with an expression halfway between boredom and arrogance. Without thinking, Elena walked over, picked up a glass, and before the man could react, spilled half of it across his chest. “Oh my God!” she gasped, grabbing a napkin. “I am so, so sorry! Here, wipe it before it stains. Do you—do you have club soda?” The man blinked down at her. “Club soda?” “Yes! Quickly!” She shoved the napkin at him. “Aren’t you supposed to carry that around? You know, for… accidents?” For a long, incredulous beat, he simply stared at her. Then his lips curved into the faintest, most irritating smirk. “I see,” he drawled. “You think I’m the waiter.” Elena froze, napkin in midair. “You’re not?” The man leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough to send a shiver down her spine. “Not even close.” Before she could sputter out a defense, the master of ceremonies’ voice boomed across the ballroom: “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our guest of honor tonight Mr. Adrian King!” The room erupted into applause. Cameras flashed. And Elena… wanted the ground to swallow her whole. Because the man with champagne dripping down his tuxedo—the man she had just mistaken for a waiter—wasn’t just anybody. He was Adrian King. Billionaire, Tech mogul The youngest powerhouse in the city. And he was staring at her like she was the most amusing disaster he’d ever seen. “Careful, Miss…” He glanced at her with deliberate slowness. “…?” “Elena,” she muttered, cheeks blazing. “Careful, Elena,” Adrian said smoothly, his smirk deepening. “You might want to save your charm for men who aren’t covered in your champagne.” Elena lifted her chin, feigning composure even as her stomach twisted. “I wasn’t being charming.” “Good,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Because I don’t fall for clumsy women who mistake me for the help.” Her mouth dropped open, but before she could retort, Adrian walked past her toward the stage, leaving her fuming and oddly breathless. This was definitely not how Elena had planned her night. And if fate had any sense of humor… it was only the beginning.