The ballroom glittered like a damn galaxy, all chandeliers and champagne flutes catching the light. Evelyn Hart stood at the edge of the chaos, her crimson gown hugging her curves like it was made for a queen. She wasn't a queen, though—not yet. Just a girl from a nowhere town who'd clawed her way into Hollywood's spotlight, one audition at a time. Tonight was her first big gala, the kind of event where dreams got made or shattered. And she wasn't here to break.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she moved through the crowd, ignoring the whispers. *"Who's that?" "New actress, right?" "God, that dress."* She smirked to herself. Let them talk. She'd spent years perfecting her walk, her smile, the way her dark curls fell just right over one shoulder. Every move was a performance, and tonight, she was the star.
Evelyn sipped her champagne, the bubbles sharp on her tongue. She scanned the room—producers with fake tans, actresses with faker smiles, and suits who probably owned half the city. This was her shot. Her latest film, a gritty indie drama, had just premiered to buzz, and now she was on everyone's radar. Including, apparently, the creep in the corner who hadn't stopped staring for ten minutes. She rolled her eyes and turned away. Men like that were a dime a dozen in this town.
What she didn't know—what she *couldn't* know—was that two sets of eyes were locked on her from across the room, and neither belonged to some nobody. These were men who didn't just want; they took. Men who built empires and broke lives. Men who, in this moment, saw her as something more than a rising star. They saw her as theirs.
---
Evelyn leaned against a pillar, catching her breath. The gala was at the Beverly Hills Hotel, a place so fancy it made her feel like an impostor. She'd grown up in a trailer park, sneaking into community theater rehearsals to escape her mom's drunken rants. Now here she was, rubbing elbows with the elite, her name on casting lists next to Oscar winners. It was surreal. Terrifying. Exhilarating.
"Loving the spotlight, Evie?" a familiar voice teased. Lila Monroe, her best friend and fellow actress, sidled up, her blonde bob bouncing. Lila was all sass and zero filter, the only person Evelyn trusted in this snake pit of an industry.
"It's overwhelming," Evelyn admitted, brushing a curl from her face. "I keep waiting for someone to yell, 'Fraud!' and kick me out."
Lila snorted, snagging a shrimp cocktail from a passing waiter. "Please. You owned that red carpet tonight. Did you see the photographers? They were practically fighting to get your good side."
Evelyn laughed, but her stomach twisted. She wasn't used to this—the attention, the pressure. Her dream was bigger than fame. She wanted to tell stories that mattered, to make people feel the way theater had made her feel as a kid: alive, seen, whole. But dreams like that came with a price, and she was still figuring out what she'd have to pay.
"Seriously, though," Lila said, lowering her voice. "Be careful. This place is crawling with sharks. And not the cute Jaws kind. The kind that'll eat your career for breakfast."
Evelyn nodded, her eyes drifting to the crowd. She didn't see the sharks Lila meant. Not yet. But she felt them. A prickle on the back of her neck, like someone was watching too closely. She shook it off, blaming the champagne and the nerves.
---
Across the room, Damian Blackwood stood in the shadows, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He didn't belong in the spotlight—didn't want to. As the CEO of Blackwood Media, he owned half the studios in this town, and the other half owed him favors. Power was his currency, and he wielded it like a blade. But tonight, his focus wasn't on deals or mergers. It was on her.
Evelyn Hart. He'd seen her film last week, a private screening his team had arranged. She'd been electric on screen, raw and real in a way that made his chest tighten. And now, seeing her in person—those sharp green eyes, that fire in her stance—he felt something he hadn't in years. Want. Not just for her body, though God knew that dress wasn't helping. No, he wanted her light, her strength, her everything. And he wasn't the only one.
His gaze flicked to the man standing a few yards away, all charm and venom in a tailored suit. Vincent Kane. Damian's jaw clenched. He knew Vincent's game—had seen it play out with countless women, countless lives ruined. Vincent didn't just want Evelyn; he'd destroy her to have her. Damian's grip tightened on his glass. Not if he got to her first.
---
Vincent Kane lounged against the bar, his smile as sharp as a knife. He was used to getting what he wanted—money, power, women. But Evelyn Hart was different. She wasn't just another pretty face. She had fire, ambition, a spark that made his blood hum. He'd been watching her all night, the way she moved through the crowd like she owned it, oblivious to the power she already held. He wanted to own that power. To own *her*.
His sources had already dug into her past—a trailer park upbringing, a deadbeat mom, a string of rejections before her big break. Perfect. Leverage like that was his specialty. He'd make her an offer she couldn't refuse, one way or another. And if she fought back? Well, he liked a challenge.
Vincent's eyes narrowed as he caught Damian Blackwood staring at her too. Of course. Damian, with his brooding hero complex, thought he could play savior. Vincent smirked. Let him try. This was a game he'd never lost.
---
Evelyn excused herself from Lila, needing air. She slipped through a side door onto a balcony, the night cool against her skin. The city sprawled below, a sea of lights that felt like possibility. She closed her eyes, letting the moment sink in. This was her life now. She was so close to everything she'd ever wanted.
But as she stood there, alone in the dark, she didn't see the two men watching her from the ballroom. Didn't feel the weight of their gazes, one protective, one predatory. Didn't know that her world was about to tilt, pulled into the orbit of two billionaires who would change her life forever.
And not in the way she expected.
Evelyn excused herself from Lila, needing air. She slipped through a side door onto the balcony, the night cool against her skin. The city sprawled below, a sea of lights that felt like possibility. She closed her eyes, letting the moment sink in. This was her life now. She was so close to everything she'd ever wanted—fame, purpose, a chance to make her mark.
But as she stood there, alone in the dark, she didn't see the two men watching her from the ballroom. Didn't feel the weight of their gazes—one burning with a need to protect, the other with a hunger to possess. Damian Blackwood's hand tightened on his whiskey glass, his eyes never leaving her. Vincent Kane's lips curled into a smirk, his fingers already dialing a number that would set his plans in motion.
And somewhere in the shadows, a camera flashed, capturing Evelyn's silhouette against the night sky. A photo that would land on someone's desk by morning, with a single word scrawled across it: Mine.