Meant To Be

Chapter 2 - Champagne & Consequences

Elena wanted to vanish. Maybe fall through the glittering marble floor and never be heard from again. Preferably before Adrian King’s sharp, knowing eyes pinned her down once more.

But this was the Starlight Gala—no such luck.

Instead, she did what any self-respecting heiress would do: plastered on her most dazzling, I-am-unbothered smile and floated through the room as though she hadn’t just humiliated herself in front of the most powerful man in the city.

“Elena!” A familiar voice chirped at her side. Lila Bennett a childhood friend, fellow socialite, and professional gossip magnet appeared with two glasses of champagne. “Darling, tell me it’s true.”

Elena groaned. “Tell you what’s true?”

“That you doused Adrian King like a clumsy barista on her first day.”

Elena snatched a glass from her hand. “It wasn’t a dousing. It was… a gentle splash.”

“Sweetheart,” Lila drawled, “the waiters are still wringing out the tablecloths. Half the ballroom saw you mopping at his chest like an overeager maid of honor.”

Elena nearly choked on her drink. “You are not helping.”

“Oh, I am,” Lila said cheerfully. She fished out her phone, wiggling it. “Because the tabloids are already eating this up.”

On the screen: Heiress Elena Cole makes a splash at Starlight Gala—literally. A blurry but undeniable photo of Elena, napkin pressed against Adrian’s impossibly broad chest, glowed in high definition.

Elena’s face flamed. “This is a nightmare.”

“Correction,” Lila sang, “this is iconic.”

Before Elena could snatch the phone away, a voice slid over her shoulder like velvet and steel.

“Enjoying the press coverage?”

Elena froze. Slowly, she turned—and there he was.

Adrian King.

He looked infuriatingly perfect, as if champagne stains were beneath his dignity. He’d swapped jackets of course he had but his presence filled the space, sharp and commanding, like gravity itself bent toward him. His gaze locked on hers, dark and amused, and Elena’s carefully constructed composure wobbled.

“I…” She cleared her throat, chin tilting up. “I was just checking my messages.”

“Mmm.” His eyes flicked to Lila’s phone, then back to her. “You’re Elena Cole.”

She hated the way her name rolled off his tongue. Like a test. Like a verdict.

“And you’re Adrian King,” she snapped back. “In case you forgot.”

The corner of his mouth curved. “Touché. Though for someone who didn’t know me five minutes ago, you certainly left a memorable impression.”

Heat crawled up her neck. Elena forced a smirk. “Don’t flatter yourself. I spill champagne on lots of men.”

He chuckled, a low sound that slid right into her chest, warm and dangerous. “Careful, Elena. Keep talking like that and people might think you’re interested.”

Her jaw dropped. “Interested? In you? Please. I’d rather—”

“Dance with me,” he interrupted, extending a hand.

For a moment, Elena just stared. The nerve of this man. The audacity.

“I don’t think so,” she said crisply, crossing her arms.

His smirk deepened. “Scared?”

That did it. No Cole ever backed down from a challenge.

With a dramatic sigh, she placed her hand in his. “Fine. But if you step on my dress, I’ll sue you for emotional damages.”

“Noted.” His eyes glittered with something wicked as he led her onto the dance floor.

The orchestra swelled, couples spinning around them in practiced elegance. Adrian drew her close, his hand firm at her waist, and Elena’s heart betrayed her by skipping a beat.

He smelled faintly of cedar and champagne an infuriating combination that made her knees soften.

“Relax,” he murmured near her ear.

“I am relaxed,” she shot back, stiff as a statue.

“Really?” His lips brushed close enough to make her shiver. “Because you’re holding me like I might bite.”

She tilted her chin defiantly. “Do you?”

His smile was slow, dangerous. “Only when invited.”

Elena’s pulse stuttered. She needed to focus, desperately, but every witty retort dissolved on her tongue. He was too close, too steady, too much.

So she did the only thing she could think of. She deliberately stepped on his expensive Italian shoe.

Adrian blinked down at her. Then, to her horror, he laughed rich, unrestrained, and entirely too handsome.

“Oh, Elena,” he said, voice low with amusement. “I think I’m going to enjoy this.”

And as they spun beneath the glittering chandeliers, Elena realized something terrifying.

Adrian King wasn’t just trouble. He was the kind of trouble she might not want to escape.