Seraphina arrived at the office the next morning, her nerves taut like strings on a violin. She had no idea what Draven's "surprise" might be, but her instincts told her it wasn't something trivial.
The lobby buzzed with activity, but she barely noticed. Her focus was on the sleek elevators that would carry her to the 45th floor and, inevitably, to Draven Crowe.
The moment she stepped into his office, her suspicions were confirmed: this wasn't going to be a routine day.
"Good morning, Seraphina," Draven said, his tone calm but loaded with expectation. He gestured to a pile of folders stacked neatly on his desk. "I've prepared a special assignment for you. It's high profile. Success will not only reflect on you but could change your standing in this company significantly."
Seraphina's sighed calmly. High profile often meant high risk. She nodded, forcing her voice to remain steady. "I'm ready, Mr. Crowe."
He studied her silently for a moment, eyes sharp. Then, as if satisfied, he added, "You'll be representing me at tonight's charity gala. A lot of influential people will be there. Your task is simple: network, observe, and gather intelligence. But one slip… and there will be consequences."
Her breath caught. A public event? With Draven Crowe watching her every move?
"I understand," she said, trying to hide the flutter of fear and excitement in her chest.
⸻
The day moved at a frantic pace. Seraphina meticulously prepared, double checking every detail, rehearsing polite greetings, and memorizing names. Veronica Hale, of course, couldn't resist a comment.
"Going to play in the big leagues, are we?" Veronica's tone was sweetly venomous. "Just remember, appearances matter more than substance here."
Seraphina clenched her jaw but smiled politely. "Thank you for the advice."
⸻
Evening arrived, and the gala sparkled with chandeliers, music, and laughter. Seraphina stepped out of the sleek limousine, her gown flowing around her like liquid midnight. Draven approached, impeccably dressed, eyes scanning the crowd as if plotting a battle strategy.
"You look… impressive," he said quietly, voice low enough for only her to hear.
Seraphina felt heat rush to her cheeks. "Thank you, sir."
As they moved through the crowd, Draven subtly guided her interactions, whispering instructions and hints. Every touch of his hand against her back, every guiding glance, sent shivers down her spine.
Then it happened, a minor mishap. A careless guest bumped into her, spilling wine on her gown. She froze, mortified. Before she could recover, Draven's arm was around her, steadying her, his voice calm but commanding.
"Stay composed," he murmured. "Let them see only what you want them to see."
The moment lingered, a spark igniting between them that neither could ignore. Seraphina's pulse raced as she realized that every encounter with Draven was a test, and a temptation.
By the end of the gala, Seraphina had navigated conversations with influential figures, avoided potential pitfalls, and even impressed Draven with her composure. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, she felt both exhausted and exhilarated.
Draven's hand brushed hers briefly as they walked toward the car. A simple touch, yet it carried an intensity that made her knees weak.
"Tomorrow," he said, voice low and almost intimate, "we continue. But remember that this world rewards skill, not hesitation."
Seraphina nodded, a thrill and a shiver running through her. She had survived the night, but she knew this was only the beginning.
As she watched him walk away, she couldn't help but wonder: how far would she be willing to go to stay in his world… and in his orbit?