Skylar adjusted the strap of her gown, forcing herself to keep a composed expression as she stepped into the grand ballroom. The Kingsleys knew how to host an event—crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the sea of wealthy guests, waiters in crisp uniforms glided through the room with trays of champagne, and the sound of polite conversation and soft classical music filled the air.
Her family walked ahead of her, her father nodding in approval at familiar faces, her mother flashing a well-practiced smile as they made their way toward their hosts.
Skylar felt trapped.
Tonight was nothing more than a transaction—a chance to parade her in front of Damian Kingsley like a business proposal wrapped in silk. She despised it. But she had no choice.
Taking a breath, she straightened her shoulders and followed.
The night dragged on, filled with forced smiles and conversations she barely listened to. Damian Kingsley had already spoken to her twice, both times exuding the arrogance she expected from someone who had never heard the word no.
Skylar was about to excuse herself when something—or rather, someone—caught her attention across the room.
She froze.
Chris?
Her breath hitched for a second as she spotted the familiar figure standing near the balcony doors, casually sipping a glass of champagne. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, far different from the usual plain clothes he wore at university.
But what was he doing here?
Confused, she stepped forward, weaving through the crowd until she was close enough for him to notice her.
"Chris?" she said cautiously, as if speaking his name out loud would shatter the illusion.
He turned, his expression unreadable, but there was no trace of shock or discomfort on his face. Instead, he smiled slightly, as if he had been expecting this moment.
"Hey, Skylar," he greeted smoothly.
Her mind raced. He shouldn't be here. This wasn't his world. He was just an ordinary student—wasn't he?
"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice low.
Chris tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the question. "I could ask you the same thing."
"This is my family's event circle. It makes sense for me to be here," she pointed out, still waiting for an actual answer.
He chuckled, taking another sip of his drink before responding. "I work here."
Skylar blinked. "Work?"
"Yeah," he said casually. "I've been doing some part-time jobs at high-end events. A friend of mine hooked me up with this one." He gestured toward the room. "Pays well, and I get free food. Can't complain."
Skylar stared at him, trying to make sense of it. Chris, in a suit, blending effortlessly among the elite, yet claiming to be here as a worker?
It made no sense.
"You never mentioned this before," she said suspiciously.
"Didn't think it was important," he shrugged.
She studied him closely. He looked completely at ease, as if this world didn't intimidate him in the slightest.
But something didn't add up.
Before she could press further, a familiar voice interrupted.
"Skylar, there you are."
She turned to see Damian Kingsley approaching, his sharp gaze flickering toward Chris with mild interest.
Chris barely reacted. He simply took another sip of his champagne, looking like he belonged in the room just as much as Damian did.
"And you are?" Damian asked, his tone carrying the faintest hint of condescension.
Chris smiled, unaffected. "Just a guy working the event."
Damian raised an eyebrow but didn't pursue the matter. He turned back to Skylar. "Your parents are looking for you. Mind joining me for a dance?"
Skylar hesitated, but she knew she had no choice. With one last glance at Chris—who simply raised his glass in a silent, knowing gesture—she let Damian lead her away.
Yet, even as she moved across the ballroom, her thoughts remained stuck on Chris.
Something about his presence here wasn't right.
And she intended to find out what it was.