Ivy Harper stared at the glittering skyline ahead, her forehead resting against the cool glass of the cab window, the city pulsing with life. The towering skyscrapers gleamed with lights that glowed like unstoppable power. Adrian Cross, a tech tycoon, philanthropist, and her latest investigative target, was waiting somewhere in one of those towers.
Ivy smoothed the elegant black dress she had selected for the evening. She fidgeted, twisting her clutch's thin strap as though it would help her concentrate. She had no taste for lavish parties or mingling with the rich and powerful. As a journalist rather than a socialite, she was constantly reminded of the stories she had written about the lives ruined by corporate greed.
"This evening is a big event, huh?" Looking at her through the rearview mirror, the cabbie said.
"Something like that," Ivy said in a courteous but abrupt tone.
The venue was a sleek glass monolith that glowed in the night sky as the car pulled up in front of it. When the driver opened the door, Ivy paused. After taking a deep breath and adjusting the press pass concealed in her clutch, she went outside.
The faint clink of champagne glasses and the buzz of conversation filled the cool air. Through the grand entrance, men in fitted suits and women in designer gowns flowed like a sea of elegance. As Ivy looked around the crowd, cataloging faces and taking notes on names, her journalistic instincts came into play.
It wasn't just any event tonight. The tech industry's darling, the elusive billionaire Adrian Cross, was revealing his most recent creation, an AI program that would transform cybersecurity. It was a significant event for Adrian's business, CrossTech, and a fantastic chance for Ivy.
As many rumors circulated about Adrian as there were praises. He was a media darling, a boy from nowhere who created a billion-dollar empire; he was reticent, intelligent, and, as Ivy suspected, concealing something. Rumors circulated about dubious transactions, rivals being sabotaged, and brutal strategies that had paved the way for his success. Ivy's career may be defined by her discovery of those secrets.
The shimmering chandeliers lit the marble floors as she entered the room. Despite the lively conversation, everyone's attention was always focused on the stage at the far end of the room.. The man of the hour was waiting on a podium.
A waiter passed by and Ivy took a glass of champagne, but she didn't drink it. Instead, she moved with practiced ease through the crowd. Her piercing green eyes scanned every exchange, noting every little detail. Information was her weapon, and this was her battlefield.
Then she caught sight of him.
Adrian Cross stood close to the stage, commanding attention despite his slight separation from the audience. Tall, broad-shouldered, and effortlessly elegant in a fitted navy suit, he resembled the untouchable billionaire. He had perfectly styled his jet-black hair, leaving just enough scruff to draw attention to his strong jawline.
However, Ivy wasn't stopped in her tracks by his appearance. He exuded a calm, collected, and completely captivating aura.
Adrian naturally received attention; he didn't have to ask for it. As people walked up to him, he nodded courteously, his dark eyes searching the room precisely, his face unreadable.
Ivy's heartbeat accelerated. She wasn't prepared to feel… threatened. She took great satisfaction in the fact that she was impervious to the allure and charisma of men such as Adrian Cross. And yet here she was, unable to take her eyes off of it.
"Pay attention," she told herself.
Tightening her grip on her notepad, she moved closer, being cautious not to attract notice. Her strategy was straight forward: observe, collect information, and, if possible, obtain a direct response.
She was about to move when catastrophe struck.
The champagne glass slipped from her hand as a sharp elbow struck her arm. The icy fluid seeped through her dress's front, and the sound of breaking glass reverberated on the marble floor.
"Excellent," Ivy muttered to herself as she picked up a napkin from a nearby table.
Behind her, a deep, smooth voice said, "You're having a rough start to the evening."
Ivy turned and looked up, staring straight into Adrian Cross's eyes, her breath catching.
Although his countenance was unreadable, he handed out a fresh white handkerchief with a hint of humor on his lips.
Ivy was momentarily stunned. She had been researching this man for weeks, reading through interviews and articles and carefully examining every bit of information she could find. It had all failed to prepare her for the intensity of his presence.
She took the handkerchief and managed to say, "Thank you."
Adrian cocked his head, examining her with such ferocity that she felt vulnerable. "I don't think we've ever met."
"I—" Ivy stopped herself. Instead of an investigative journalist who was here to analyze his life, her cover was a tech blogger. "My name is Ivy Harper. TechSphere Weekly is where I write.
Adrian said, "Ah," in a courteous but evasive tone. "Loving the occasion?"
"Definitely," she lied as she regained her composure. "The work done by your company is… amazing."
Although Adrian's smile was slight, Ivy felt a tinge of unease in his eyes. Hearing that from someone in the media is always pleasant. You all view success in such a distinctive way.
Even though the remark was lighthearted, Ivy couldn't help but feel that it was loaded with meaning. Was he suspicious?
A voice called Adrian's name before she could respond. A tall, silver-haired man walked up and shook hands firmly. With a courteous nod, Adrian excused himself, leaving Ivy standing there, holding on to the handkerchief like it was her lifeline.
Her mind was reeling from the ramifications of their brief conversation, and her heart was still pounding. Adrian Cross was witty, perceptive, and perhaps even suspicious in addition to being charming. She couldn't afford to be careless.
But she noticed something else as she saw him move through the crowd with ease. The story of Adrian Cross was not going to be simple.
There would be a fight with him.
Later that night, Ivy's phone buzzed as she sat at her small kitchen table with her laptop open, mentally reliving the events of the evening.
Anticipating a message from her editor, she picked it up. It was an unidentified number instead.
The message's simplicity was chilling:
Keep your distance from Adrian Cross. This is the only caution you have.
As she gazed at the words, her stomach turned. Was this an empty threat to frighten her away, a bluff? Or was it something else entirely?
Adrian Cross was more than just a secretive billionaire, that much was clear. He was a man who lived in peril.
Ivy had recently entered his world.