IRIS' POV

The event was in full swing. The place was decorated beautifully, from the top to the bottom. Of course, you would expect nothing less for the birthday ceremony for the only son of Liam Brantholm and the heir to the Brantholm empire, Julian Brantholm.

 I, on the other hand, was simply bored with this party. My parents had forced me to attend, and I had no other choice than to obey. Left to me, I would have been in my room at home reading a book, but no, I was forced to attend this social gathering.

 I stood at the corner, watching everybody mingle, I wanted no part of it and I wasn't even going to pretend that I did. I didn't even know what the groom looked like, all I knew was that his father was one of my father's business associates and one that he could not afford to lose.

 Liam Brantholm was one of the most important people in the whole of New York. His name was so powerful, it made other powerful businessmen like my dad bow to their needs. My father always spoke of how he could not afford to lose him as an investor for the family's company.

 I didn't care about the man one bit. He always seemed too corny and did whatever he wanted without anybody holding him accountable. I heard that he got away with a few crimes, but he had never been investigated. I was very sure he had the police under his belt.

 "You don't look so happy to be here." A voice said from behind me. I was startled and I turned around abruptly to see who had spoken.

I was met with hazel-green eyes and a face so handsome it almost took my breath away. His black hair was cut short, he was lean and muscular, and he was tall. A couple of inches taller than me.

"Because I am not," I stated in a matter-of-fact tone after I had found my voice. I tried to appear unfazed by his presence.

"I don't blame you; I am not so happy to be here either." He stated, now leaning on the wall next to me. He was an image to behold in his navy blue three-piece suit.

"Really? Why is that?" I asked, suddenly enjoying his company. Normally, I would be repulsed, but this man seemed interesting.

"I just don't care for the festivities, and I hate social gatherings."

"Same here," I said with a small smile playing on my lips which he returned.

"Why?" He asked.

"I would much rather be spending my time at home, reading a book or watching a rom-com," I said proudly. I was not ashamed of my passions, and I always found a way to mention them in every conversation. My brothers and colleagues made endless fun of me for reading so much but I didn't care. It was what made me happy.

"Oh, you love to read. What kind of books?"

"Mostly romance, biographies, and murder/thriller."

"I'm with you on the biographies and murder/thriller but not romance."

"Don't tell me, you don't believe in romance," I said and rolled my eyes.

"I can't believe in something that is a myth… an idea. There is no such thing as happily ever after." He stated. What he was saying was a load of nonsense, but I couldn't help but love how he looked me in the eye when he spoke.

 He exhibited so much confidence it was hard not to be pulled into his orbit.

"Sounds like someone who's had his heart broken."

"Oh, and you believe in romance. Sounds like somebody who has never had her heart broken." He retorts.

I break into a laugh. "You are right, I have never had a relationship before."

"And I can guess why. You have read so much of these romance novels, that you have subconsciously created a standard in your mind that no man will be able to meet because these standards are unrealistic."

"Hey, mister. You know nothing about me." I scoffed, suddenly feeling very defensive. The truth is that he was not wrong. I just didn't want to admit it. Every time I meet a guy, I always find myself comparing him to the fictional characters in those books. It was not healthy, and it was something I knew I had to break out of. He was right, those standards were very unrealistic.

"You're right, I don't but I can tell by the look on your face that you know I am right." I turned to face him, but he wasn't looking at me anymore, he was staring at the dance floor.

"What kind of birthday party is this anyway? The celebrant isn't even around." I mutter.

"What makes you think he is not around?"

"Because I haven't seen him. But then again, I wouldn't recognize him if I did, I have never seen him before."

"I can see that. He is around, you just probably don't recognize him, and he seems to be keeping a low profile."

I scoff. "I doubt. I am sure he is just like his father."

"Do you have something against Liam Brantholm?" He asked with an amused look on his face.

"Not really. I just think he is very corky and a bit of an asshole." I respond, causing the strange man to burst into fits of laughter.

"I have never heard anybody talk that way about, Liam." He said with a grin on his face.

"So, you agree?"

"I am sure everybody would agree, but nobody is ever brave enough to say it aloud. I sort of wish he could have heard you."

"Oh God, no. My father would end me if he heard, he worships the ground the man walks on." I say with a gag.

"Who is your father?"

"Henry Castille," I say looking in the direction of my father.

"Oh. I just realized I don't know your name."

"Iris… Iris Castille."

"Iris, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady." He took my hand in his and kissed the back. That one action sent a wave of electricity all over my body.

"And what is your name?" I asked, trying to hide the blush that tried to creep its way to my face.

He let go of my hand and gave me a small smile. "Julian… Julian Brantholm." He said and walked away, leaving me utterly dumbfounded.