The ballroom shimmered with opulence, a kaleidoscope of diamonds, designer gowns, and the soft murmur of wealth. Elena Blake adjusted the hem of her second-hand black dress, feeling like a fraud among these polished elites. She didn't belong here, never had, never would, but tonight wasn't about belonging. It was about survival.

Her gaze darted toward the centerpiece of the room: Damien Steele's prized painting. A mesmerizing swirl of golds and reds, rumored to have cost millions. She bit her lip. Who paid that much for a painting when people like her scraped by on ramen and cheap coffee?

"Focus, Elena," she muttered under her breath.

This wasn't just any gala. It was the event of the season, where billionaires flaunted their power and socialites fished for new scandals. Elena had only made it in because her best friend, Mia, had forged her an invite.

"You're an artist," Mia had said. "If anyone deserves to be there, it's you. Network, flirt if you have to just get your work noticed."

Flirting wasn't on Elena's agenda, but networking? That she could do. She'd spent hours memorizing names and faces of art dealers and gallery owners attending tonight. But as her eyes landed on Damien Steele across the room, her breath hitched.

Tall, commanding, and dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, he looked like a god surveying his mortal kingdom. His icy blue eyes cut through the crowd, missing nothing. People didn't just talk to Damien Steele, they sought his approval, prayed for his attention.

"Elena Blake?"

A waiter appeared beside her with a tray of champagne. Startled, she turned too quickly and her elbow collided with the tray.

The crystal flute wobbled precariously before its contents splashed onto the floor, spraying the hem of her dress.

"Oh no!" she gasped, fumbling to grab a napkin from the tray. But as she twisted to help, her heel caught on the edge of the carpet.

The world slowed.

She toppled backward, arms flailing, and landed squarely on the corner of the painting.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Elena froze, staring in horror at the canvas beneath her. A jagged tear split the artwork down the center, the reds and golds now marred by the evidence of her clumsiness.

"Move," a deep voice commanded.

She looked up and wished she hadn't. Damien Steele stood above her, his expression unreadable but terrifying.

"Get. Up." His voice was low, like the calm before a storm.

Elena scrambled to her feet, heart pounding. "I—I didn't mean to—"

"Save it." He gestured to the ruined painting, his gaze cutting into her like shards of ice. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I'm so sorry! It was an accident," she stammered, her cheeks flaming.

"An accident?" Damien repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. His jaw tightened, and he glanced around at the crowd. The whispers had already begun.

"Who is she?"

"She just destroyed a Steele original!"

"Damien's going to kill her."

"Silence," Damien snapped, his voice slicing through the murmurs like a blade. The room fell quiet.

He turned back to Elena, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. "You've cost me a million dollars tonight. How exactly do you plan to fix this?"

Her stomach sank. "I… I'll pay for it."

Damien raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "Really? And how, exactly, does someone like you plan to come up with that kind of money?"

"I'll work for it," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

The crowd collectively inhaled, and Damien's eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, his towering frame dwarfing hers.

"You'll work for it?" he repeated softly, his voice dangerously calm.

"Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her pride was screaming at her to run, but her sense of responsibility rooted her in place.

For a moment, Damien said nothing. Then his smirk deepened.

"Fine," he said, his voice like velvet laced with steel. "You'll work for me. Starting tomorrow."

"What?" Elena blinked, certain she'd misheard.

"You owe me a million dollars, Miss…?"

"Blake. Elena Blake."

"Well, Miss Blake," Damien said, his smirk now a full-blown, wicked grin, "you've just become my newest employee. And trust me, I'll make sure you earn every penny."

The room erupted into murmurs again, but Damien paid no attention. He turned on his heel, leaving Elena standing there, stunned and humiliated.

As the crowd began to disperse, Mia appeared at her side, eyes wide.

"What just happened?" Mia hissed.

Elena swallowed hard, staring at Damien's retreating figure.

"I think I just made a deal with the devil."

Damien is seen in his private office, watching a replay of Elena's fall from the security footage. A hint of amusement flickers in his icy eyes as he murmurs, "This will be… entertaining."