chapter 4

Elias leaned against a pillar near the gala's bar, whiskey in hand, his jet-black hair loose, his brown eyes scanning the crowd. The Cross Enterprises ballroom buzzed with Manhattan's elite, chandeliers casting golden light over sharp suits and shimmering gowns. Julian stood beside him, a bespoke suit hugging his muscular frame, his eyes cold and calculating. Their voices were low, the hum of the gala masking their words.

"She's a wild card," Elias said, his voice smooth and cautious, like he was testing the tightrope. "Elena is smart and stubborn, are you sure about this fiancée's stunt?"

Julian's jaw tightened, his smirk sharp as a knife. "Sure? She's a tool, Navarro. I need her design to fix the PR mess, keep the media quiet". His tone was clipped, but his eyes flicked to the entrance, hunger slipping through. "She'll play her part, especially with her… personal stakes". His tone was smooth, the words stakes heavy, a nod to Mateo's shadow.

Elias raised a brow, his smile sly and probing. "Stakes? She's not just any designer, Cross. She doesn't bend easily, Cross. You saw her pitch and fire like that…it burns both ways, and you know it is personal." His voice softened, admiration sneaking in, a crack in his cool, but his eyes darkened, torn between loyalty to Julian and a growing pull toward Elena.

Julian's gaze hardened, a warning. "Fire's useful till it spreads. Keep her close, Navarro. She's got reasons to dig." His words were smooth, but the edge possessive, a claim staked on a woman he knew, carried grief.

Elias sipped his drink, unfazed, but his eyes darkened and torn. "Close? She's not a deal you close and she's got her own game." His tone was light, but underneath screamed loyalty torn between Julian and something deeper for Elena.

Before Julian could bite back, the crowd parted, and Elena stepped into the ballroom. The emerald gown Elias had sent her caressed her curves, its lush fabric gleaming under the light, molding her form with a sultry and seductive grace. He'd picked it himself— vibrant and bold, like her spirit, delivered to her Brooklyn apartment with a note: For the gala. Shine, Elena-E. Her curly brown hair resting on her shoulders, her eyes sharp and defiant. Her thrift store clutch, a quiet rebellion against the gala's wealth, trembled in her grip. Mateo's grin haunted her mind, pushing her forward.

Julian's breath hitched, his eyes studying her, desire flashing before he masked it with a smirk. "She wears it well", he murmured, voice low, knowing she was more than a designer.

Elias froze, glass halfway to his lips, his eyes widening, then darkening with raw want. Goddamn, Elena, he thought as his cool shattered. The gown was a perfect fit for her, her fire glowing through it, and he cursed how it stirred him. "She's trouble," he said, voicing a late-night confession, heavy with admiration and restraint.

She spotted them, her pulse spiking under their stares. She lifts her chin before striding forward as the gown whispers against her thighs. "Gentlemen", she said, her voice steady, a teasing edge hiding her nerves. "Like the dress?"

Elias recovered first, his grin warm, eyes still lingering on the dress. "My pick", he said, voice as smooth as a late-night confession. "You made it look better than I imagined".

Her cheeks warmed, his words, his words sparking heat she did not want. He chose this? For me? "Good taste, Navarro", she said, keeping it light, but her heart raced.

Julian stepped closer as his cologne began teasing her senses. "You clean up nice, Ms Marquez", he said, voice low, like a dare. "Don't fuck this up", his eyes flickering, aware of her personal stake.

Her defiance flared as her desire clashed with her distrust of both men. He's controlling and linked to Mateo's death, but why does my body crave his touch? "I do not flop, Mr Cross", she shot back, meeting his gaze. "You hired me to shine and that is what I am most certainly going to do".

Julian's smirk widened, but his grip on his glass tightened. "The media's watching, so, you need to play the part, or we're both screwed." He offered his arm, a command wrapped in charm.

She took it, her fingers brushing his sleeve, a jolt sparking through. "I know my role," she said, her voice steady despite the war inside.

They moved through the crowd, Julian nodding to investors, his grip firm as whispers trailed behind— Cross's new fiancée, some designer, too bold. Elena smiled, playing the part, but her eyes darted, seeking Elias as if his warmth was a lifeline, but could she trust him?

Elias lingered by the bar, raising a glass, smile teasing, gaze heavy. "You're owning it, Elena", he called, his voice warm and inviting. "Careful now, you don't want to outshine the boss".

Julian's jaw twitched, holding a smirk. "She's my fiancée, Navarro, and she's meant to shine". His tone was light, but possessiveness cut sharp, a warning shot.

Her chest tightened. Julian's claiming me, Elias is pushing him, and I am trapped, wanting them both. She laughed, dodging the tension. "Just here for the free drinks," she said, tossing Elias a grin. His eyes softened, reading her nerves and she cursed how he saw her.

Elias stepped closer, ocean and leather scent steadying her. "Free drinks? You're worth more," he said, his voice low and intimate, checking her. "Are you good?"

Her breath caught. He cares, but can i trust him? "I am fine", she snapped, sharper than meant, dodging his pull. "Just working".

Julian's grip tightened, eyes flashing. "Work's with me", he said, voice low, a growl under the charm. "Do not wander".

Elias smirked, unbothered. "Relax, Cross. She is not your toy", his tone was light, eyes on Elena, protective and wanting.

Her stomach knotted. They are fighting over me. "I am no one's toy", she said, voice hard, stepping free. "Keep it professional".

Julian nodded, a glint of respect in his eyes. "Professional, it is, but for now." He pointed to the dance floor. "One dance, fiancée?"

She hesitated, but her body craved his touch, her mind screaming Mateo's name. She took his hand, his grip searing, guiding her with control. Cameras flashed, the crowd watching, but her eyes found Elias at the bar, his gaze heavy, longing and restraint clashing. He wants me, but he's holding back. Why?

The music slowed, Julian pulling her close, breath hot in her ear. "You're good", he murmured, his voice thick. "Too good. What are you hiding?"

Her core tightened, his words a snare. "I'm an open book", she lied, meeting his eyes. "You? Any secrets in that empire?"

His gaze darkened, a shadow flickering. "Careful, Ms. Marquez. Dig deep, you'll bleed." His tone was smooth, but the warning bit, heavy with truth.

Her heart jumped, but before she could push, he spun her, danced over. She broke free, needing air, and slipped to the balcony as the city noise grounded her. Mateo, I'm trying, but these men… they're breaking me.

Voices drifted from a shadowed corner—Julian and Elias, low, urgent. She froze, pressing against the wall.

"Project Phoenix is dead", Julian said, his voice hard and sharp. "The lab mess stays buried, Navarro, especially with her sniffing around". His tone was sharp.

Elias' tone was soft, wary. "Not that easy, now that we've got eyes on us, thanks to Reed. If she continues to dig…"

"She won't," Julian snapped. "She's a designer, not a fucking detective". His voice was cold, but fear flickered, knowing Elena's personal motive.

Elena's blood froze. Project Phoenix? The lab accident? Her nails but her palms, grief and rage surging. They're covering his death. She wanted to storm in, scream for truth, but her feet locked. Not yet, I need proof.

Elias sighed, his voice tight. "She's sharp, Cross. If she connects the dots, we're fucked. She deserves better."

Julian laughed, icy. "Deserves? This is a business, not a dream. Keep her in line, or I will."