THE HEART'S GAMBIT

CHAPTER 4: INTO THE LION'S DEN

I stared at the invitation on my counter like it was a loaded gun.

Elena, on the other hand, was vibrating with excitement.

“Paloma, are you serious right now? "You got invited to the Salvador Montenegro’s gala, and you’re just standing there?”

I picked up the thick, gold-embossed card, running my thumb over the elegant calligraphy. The words ‘An Evening of Elegance’ shimmered in the boutique’s soft lighting.

“Salvador barely knows me,” I muttered. “Why would he want me there?”

Elena scoffed. “Uh, because you’re ridiculously talented? And maybe because he’s rich and powerful and likes collecting shiny new things?”

I shot her a look.

“Okay, okay,” she backpedaled. But seriously, this is an opportunity, Paloma. Not just to rub elbows with Vegas’ elite but to put your work in front of people who could actually change your career.”

I sighed. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is! You go, you look hot, and you make connections. And who knows?” She wiggled her brows. “Maybe a certain brooding chauffeur will be there.”

I ignored the way my pulse jumped at the thought of Andrew.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I reflected.

Elena gave me a deadpan stare. “Paloma. You’re a designer. Make something.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped.

She was right.

I had two days. I could do this.

The Night of the Gala

I smoothed my hands down the fabric of my gown, taking a steadying breath.

The dress was one of my best creations—a floor-length black silk piece that hugged my curves in all the right places. A deep slit ran up one leg, and the delicate beading along the bodice shimmered under the soft lighting. My dark hair was pinned back in an elegant updo, and my makeup was subtle but striking.

I barely recognized myself.

Elena, who had helped zip me up, whistled. “If you don’t walk in there and own that room, I will personally throw you back inside.”

A car honked outside. I peeked out the window and froze.

A sleek black Aston Martin was parked at the curb, and leaning against it was Andrew.

Gone was the casual chauffeur. Tonight, he looked effortlessly refined in a classic black tuxedo, the crisp white shirt open at the collar, revealing just a hint of skin. His dark hair was styled with just enough messiness to make it unfairly attractive.

Elena peeked over my shoulder and let out a low moan. “Oh my God. If you don’t want him, I do.”

I shot her a look, but my heart was pounding.

I grabbed my clutch, gave myself one last look in the mirror, and stepped outside.

Andrew’s eyes swept over me.

For the first time, his usually composed expression faltered. His lips parted slightly, and I could’ve sworn I saw something like awe flicker across his face.

“You clean up well,” I teased, trying to mask the fact that I suddenly felt warm all over.

Andrew’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before he finally spoke.

“You look…” He trailed off, exhaling softly. “Beautiful.”

Something in his tone made my stomach flip.

I swallowed. “Thank you.”

He opened the car door for me, and as I slid inside, I could still feel his eyes on me.

At the Gala

The venue was breathtaking. A grand ballroom with cascading chandeliers, soft golden lighting, and walls adorned with intricate designs. The air buzzed with the quiet murmur of **Vegas’ elite—**business people, celebrities, politicians, all gathered in one place.

Andrew led me inside, his hand resting lightly at the small of my back.

I should’ve been nervous, but with him beside me, I felt… steady.

Then, the room shifted.

Or maybe it was just the way everyone reacted when Salvador Montenegro entered.

He commanded attention without saying a word. Dressed in a sharp black suit, his presence was magnetic, effortless. Conversations stilled as he passed, people parting like the Red Sea.

And then, his dark eyes landed on me.

A slow smile curved his lips. He murmured something to the man beside him, then started making his way over.

I felt Andrew tense.

Before I could react, Salvador was standing before me.

“Miss Torres,” he greeted smoothly, taking my hand and brushing a kiss against my knuckles. His lips barely grazed my skin, but the gesture sent a shiver down my spine—not out of attraction, but something else.

Something like a warning.

“You made the right choice in coming,” he said, his voice rich and velvety.

I smiled politely. “Thank you for the invitation.”

He glanced at Andrew, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them.

Then, he turned back to me. “Come, let me introduce you to some people.”

I hesitated, but before I could answer, Salvador gently but firmly placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me away.

I barely had time to glance over my shoulder at Andrew before I was swallowed by the crowd.

And for the first time that night, I felt like I had stepped into something I couldn’t control.