The Secret Heir’s Forbidden Love

Aria Williams had never belonged in rooms like this. The crystal chandeliers above glittered like a thousand captive stars, showering golden light onto marble floors polished so bright they reflected the gowns and tuxedos of New York’s most powerful elite. Waiters glided past with trays of champagne flutes, their white gloves barely brushing the delicate stems. Laughter rose and fell like waves, mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet tucked discreetly into a corner. Aria clutched her small clutch tighter, trying to steady her breathing. She had told herself a dozen times she shouldn’t have come. This wasn’t her world—the world of millionaires and socialites, of whispered stock deals and bloodlines that stretched back to old money. She was there because her best friend, Maya, had begged her to come. “You’ve been working nonstop, Aria." One night of glamour won’t kill you. Who knows? Maybe it’ll even change your life. “Change my life,” Aria muttered under her breath, smoothing down the simple midnight-blue dress she’d borrowed from Maya. Compared to the sequined gowns shimmering around her, she felt practically invisible. Invisible suited her just fine. But then she saw him. He stood at the far end of the ballroom, half-shadowed near a tall window where the city lights glittered like diamonds against the night sky. Tall, broad-shouldered, his black suit cut with perfect precision, he looked like he’d been carved from the shadows. The way people orbited around him—powerful men, elegant women leaning too close, whispers trailing in his wake—told Aria he wasn’t just another guest. He was someone. And he was watching her. Their eyes met across the crowd, a jolt of awareness sharp enough to steal her breath. Dark eyes, unreadable yet piercing, held hers for a beat too long before someone touched his arm, pulling his attention away. Aria quickly looked down at her glass, her pulse racing. Get a grip. Men like that don’t look at girls like you. He was probably staring through you, not at you. Still, her heart refused to slow. “Aria!” Maya’s voice pulled her back. Her friend, radiant in a red gown that turned every head, looped an arm through hers. “Stop hiding in corners." Come meet people. You never know, your future husband might be here. Aria laughed, shaking her head. “Please." I’d settle for surviving the night without tripping over this dress. Maya rolled her eyes and dragged her deeper into the crowd. Aria tried to focus on the introductions—names she instantly forgot, handshakes too practiced, smiles too sharp—but her mind kept drifting back to the man in the shadows. She didn’t notice him move until it was too late. One moment she was excusing herself from a conversation about real estate investments she didn’t understand. The next she spun around and collided with a solid wall of warmth and strength. Her champagne flute tipped dangerously, liquid sloshing over the rim. A hand shot out, steadying her wrist before disaster struck. “Careful,” a deep voice murmured, smooth as velvet, rich as sin. Aria’s breath caught. She looked up—and into his eyes. Up close, he was even more striking. Strong jaw, dark hair slightly tousled as if he’d run impatient fingers through it, lips curved in the faintest shadow of a smile that wasn’t quite a smile at all. His gaze pinned her, dark and unreadable, as though he was trying to unravel her very soul. “I—I’m so sorry,” she stammered, pulling her hand back too quickly. Her pulse thundered in her ears. “You should watch where you’re going,” he said, but there was no harshness in his tone. Instead, it was threaded with something else—something dangerous. Aria straightened her shoulders, heat rising to her cheeks. “I said I was sorry." No need to be rude. That almost-smile deepened, though his eyes remained cool. “Not many people speak to me like that.” “Maybe more should,” she muttered, surprising even herself. For a moment, silence hung between them, charged and electric. Then, to her shock, he laughed softly. A sound low and rare, as if laughter wasn’t something he allowed himself often. Before she could ask his name, another voice cut through the tension. “There you are, Damian.” A woman appeared at his side, breathtaking in a glittering silver gown, her hand sliding possessively along his arm. She looked at Aria with thinly veiled disdain before turning her perfect smile up at him. Damian. So that was his name. Aria felt an odd sting in her chest, though she had no right to. This wasn’t her world. And men like him? They weren’t for her. “I should go,” Aria murmured, stepping back quickly. But even as she turned away, she felt his gaze following her, heavy and unrelenting. And somewhere deep down, she knew this wouldn’t be the last time their paths crossed.