Chapter 2 Gala of Lies

The borrowed gown was very itchy. Alice pulled at the straps with shiny decorations that hurt her shoulders, cursing Mia's idea of "blending in." The bright green dress was way too small, and the slit up at her thigh practically indecent. But Mia insisted:"Rich men love a damsel in distress. Just flutter those blue eyes and act lost."

Act lost. Alice snorted. She was lost.

The Grand Ballroom of the Sterling Tower glittered like a diamond mine on steroids. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting prisms of light over billionaires sipping champagne.

Alice tightened her grip on the clutch purse housing her phone. Don't panic. You've done this before.

Except last time, she'd had 12K followers and a functioning Instagram account. Now, she had a suspended profile, a looming lawsuit from Donovan Industries, and a voicemail from a very angry Martin Donovan: "You've made your last mistake, little girl."

But Alice wasn't here for Donovan tonight.

She was here for him.

Jude Sterling.

The billionaire "philanthropist" hosting this black-tie circus. The man whose charity-Sterling Hope Foundation-had suspiciously unclear tax filings and a PR team that makes him looks so good. The man currently standing ten feet away, his back to her, laughing with a senator.

Alice's heart beat faster. Seeing him nearby, he was... too handsome. He was very tall in his fancy suit, with dark hair combed back like a movie star. She had seen his pictures online, but they didn't show how big and powerful he seemed, like a dark cloud in expensive clothes.

Focus. Get the proof. Get out.

She moved toward the ice sculpture (an ugly looking angel with a donation basket) and pretended to admire it while positioning her small purse, her phone camera peeked out, recording the crowd.

Bingo.

There-by the champagne tower-Donovan's COO, shaking hands with a man whose face Alice recognized from Interpol's corruption watchlist. She zoomed in, heart hammering.

Got you.

"Enjoying the view?"

The voice rolled over her like thunder-deep, but laced with menace.

Alice turned.

Jude Sterling stood inches away, his eyes were glacial blue.

"I... the ice sculpture." She gestured weakly. "It's... uh... philanthropic?"

One dark brow arched. "Do you always film ice?"

Her blood turned to slush. He knows.

"Just capturing the... beautiful environment." She forced a giggle, channeling Mia's dumb socialite voice. "For my followers!"

Jude's gaze dropped to her purse. "And where might I find this beautiful environment online? Your handle, perhaps?"

Shit.

"It's private." She stepped back, heel catching on the train of her dress. "Family-only. My... grandma loves ice."

"How clever." He matched her retreat, closing the distance. "Let me guess-Grandma also loves tax fraud exposés?"

Alice's throat closed. The room tilted.

He knew.

He knew.

"Hand it over." Jude held out his palm, voice soft. "Now."

"I don't know what you're-"

He moved faster than she thought possible for a man his size. One hand locked around her wrist, the other snatching the purse.

"Wait!" She lunged, but he'd already dumped the contents onto a passing waiter's tray.

Lipstick. Breath mints.

No phone.

Jude stilled.

Alice allowed herself a shaky breath. Thank God for Mia's emergency thigh holster advice. The phone burned against her skin, tucked into the garter under her dress.

Jude's eyes narrowed. "Clever girl."

Before she could react, his hand slid down her arm, over her hip-

"Excuse me-"

-and gripped the slit in her dress, fingers brushing the garter.

"Don't." She shoved him, panic rising.

Too late.

He yanked the phone free, holding it aloft like a trophy. The screen lit up, paused mid-recording.

0:47:21

Their faces filled the frame, Jude's voice crisp on the audio: "Clever girl."

For a heartbeat, the world stopped.

Then Jude smiled.

It wasn't a nice smile.

"You're the one who ruined Donovan," he murmured, studying her. "Alice Hart."

She froze. How-

"Your eyes." He tapped the screen. "They have this... flare when you lie."

Before she could retort, he pocketed her phone and gripped her elbow. "Let's chat somewhere quieter. Unless you'd prefer I call security?"

The threat hung between them. Alice glanced at the nearest guard, hand already on his taser.

Trapped.

"Lead the way," she hissed.

Jude steered her through the crowd. Guests parted like the Red Sea, some nodding deferentially ("Mr. Sterling"), others eyeing Alice with barely veiled disdain.

He pushed open a service door, revealing a dim hallway lined with wine crates.

"In."

Alice stumbled into the storage room. The door clicked shut behind them.

Jude leaned against it, arms crossed. "Who sent you?"

"Sent me? I'm a guest!"

"With a fake RSVP." He pulled a folded paper from his jacket-her RSVP, stamped VOID in red. "The real Charlotte Whitmore is sixty."

Mia's forger screwed up.

Alice lifted her chin. "So arrest me."

"Tempting." He stepped closer, crowding her against a crate. "But I'd rather know why a suspended influencer with a death wish is sneaking into my gala."

Her breath hitched. "Your charity's a scam. Just like Donovan's."

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. "Careful, Miss Hart. You're in no position to lecture about scams."

"Really?" She shoved against his chest. It was like pushing a brick wall. "Why host a fundraiser if you're not just laundering money? How many kids did your chemicals poison?"

His jaw tightened. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then prove it." She smiled as she stared at the phone in his pocket. "Let me publish that video. Show the world you've got nothing to hide."

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then-

"No."

He pulled out her phone, thumb hovering over delete.

"Don't!" She lunged, but he held her back with one arm.

"You want a story?" He leaned down, lips grazing her ear. "Here's one: girl crashes party, gets caught, goes home in cuffs. The end."

The screen lit up.

DELETE VIDEO? YES / NO

"Please," she whispered.

Jude paused. Studied her face.

Then-

The door burst open.

"Sir?" A guard peered in. "The press is asking for your speech."

Jude straightened, slipping her phone into his jacket. "Duty calls."

He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Alice grabbed his sleeve. "My phone-"

"You'll get it back." He pried her fingers loose. "After I've wiped it. And your dignity."

The door slammed.