Chapter Seven: Intrigue at the Ball

Sophie smoothed her dress nervously as she stepped out of Damien's car. The soft hum of music drifted through the grand estate, where lights twinkled like stars against the evening sky. People milled about in formal attire, their laughter and chatter blending with the melody. Sophie tugged at the hem of her navy gown, feeling out of place amidst the opulence.

"You look stunning," Damien said, his voice low and genuine.

"Thanks," Sophie muttered, her cheeks warming. "You don't look too bad yourself."

Damien smirked. "I always look good."

The confidence in his voice made Sophie roll her eyes, but she couldn't deny that he was right. His tailored black suit fit him perfectly, and the way he carried himself turned heads as they walked up the marble staircase together.

Inside, the ballroom was even more breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, and the air buzzed with elegance and wealth. Sophie's fingers twitched at her sides. She was here on a mission, but the grandeur of it all made her feel like an intruder.

"Relax," Damien whispered, leaning close to her ear. "You're with me. No one here will dare say a word."

Before she could reply, a tall man approached them, his face splitting into a grin.

"Cousin Damien!" the man called out, clapping Damien on the shoulder.

"Charles." Damien's voice held a mix of affection and exasperation. "Always the loudest in the room."

"And you're always the most boring." Charles turned to Sophie, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. "And who is this vision of beauty?"

"This is Sophie," Damien said, his tone flat.

"Sophie," Charles repeated, taking her hand and bowing dramatically. "What a pleasure to meet you. I must say, Damien doesn't deserve to be in the presence of someone so radiant."

Sophie couldn't help but laugh. "You're quite the charmer, aren't you?"

"It's a gift," Charles said with a wink. "Tell me, Sophie, has Damien been boring you to tears already? Because if he has, I'm more than happy to rescue you."

"Charles," Damien interrupted, his voice tight, "don't you have someone else to annoy?"

Charles ignored him, his grin widening. "Sophie, what do you say? Shall we escape this dullard and find some real fun?"

Damien stepped between them, his smile forced. "Excuse us, Sophie. I need to have a word with my dear cousin."

Before Sophie could respond, Damien grabbed Charles by the arm and dragged him toward a far corner of the room. Charles threw a mock-salute over his shoulder, and Sophie stifled a laugh.

Now was her chance.

Sophie slipped through the crowd, her heart pounding. She'd memorized the layout of the estate from a blueprint she'd been sent earlier. Damien's room was on the second floor, far enough from the ballroom that no one would notice her absence—if she was quick.

The hallway upstairs was dimly lit and eerily quiet. The sound of her heels clicking against the polished floor echoed louder than she liked. She found Damien's door and hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. No one was there.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and slipped inside.

The room was as immaculate as she'd expected, with sleek black furniture and a massive bed draped in crisp white linens. A faint scent of cedar lingered in the air. Sophie wasted no time, heading straight for the desk by the window.

She rifled through the drawers, her fingers trembling. Most of the papers she found seemed mundane—business contracts, financial statements—but nothing incriminating. She checked the bookshelves, running her hands along the spines in case they concealed a hidden compartment.

Frustration mounted as the minutes ticked by. She was about to give up when she noticed a small safe tucked behind a painting.

"Bingo," she whispered.

The safe was high-tech, but she'd been given a USB key to bypass the encryption. Sophie inserted it, holding her breath as the safe clicked open. Inside, she found a stack of files and a sleek laptop. She snapped photos of the documents with her phone, then turned to the laptop.

The screen lit up, prompting her for a password.

"Come on," she muttered, trying a few obvious guesses. Nothing worked.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. She was able to cover her tracks before the person behind the door stepped in, a skill she learned when she used to steal biscuits from her mother's room as a child.

Sophie froze, her blood running cold. She turned slowly to see Damien standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"What," he said, "are you doing in my room?"