Chapter 2 Sparks and shadows

Elena didn't sleep that night.

Her mind replayed every second of her meeting with Grayson Maddox - the way he studied her like a problem he wanted to solve, the confidence in his voice, the silent tension that hung between them even when they weren't speaking.

It wasn't just business. It couldn't be.

By morning, her inbox held a non-disclosure agreement, a wire transfer receipt for the deposit, and a detailed brief for the gala. He didn't waste time. Neither did she.

The venue was set: The Astoria Grand - gold chandeliers, marble floors, old-money elegance. The guest list included senators, celebrities, tech moguls, and media sharks ready to pounce if the night fell short of perfect.

Elena stood in the ballroom by noon, clipboard in hand, hair pulled up, heels clicking with purpose. She was in her zone - directing florists, lighting crews, caterers. It was controlled chaos, but she thrived in it.

Then she felt it - a presence behind her.

"I didn't take you for the clipboard type," came the voice she already knew too well.

She turned. "Mr. Maddox. Do you always sneak up on people like that?"

He smirked slightly. "Only the interesting ones."

Elena narrowed her eyes. "You're early."

"I make a habit of arriving before I'm expected." He walked further into the room, hands in his pockets. "I wanted to see the space."

"Well," she said, motioning to the expanse of the ballroom, "here it is - all 8,000 square feet of high-society pressure and overpriced lighting."

That drew a real smile from him. Brief. But it was there.

Grayson circled the room, his gaze lingering on the tall windows, the arched ceiling. "My mother used to bring me here as a kid," he said quietly. "Before things got... complicated."

Elena blinked. That wasn't in his file.

"You don't strike me as someone who volunteers personal history," she said.

He looked at her. "I don't. But you asked why I wanted this place. That's why."

She paused. "Are you always this... mysterious?"

"Only when I don't know where someone stands."

"Well, if it helps - I stand on the side of getting this job done, getting paid, and never owing anyone more than I have to."

He nodded slowly. "Smart."

"But I should warn you," she added, lifting her eyes to meet his, "I don't do well with control freaks. If you hired me to micromanage, I'm not the planner for you."

"I didn't hire you to manage me," he said, stepping closer. "I hired you to manage them. And so far, you're doing fine."

Elena's breath caught.

It wasn't what he said. It was the way he said it - low, calm, close. Like a man who didn't speak often, but when he did, it meant something.

Then his phone buzzed.

He stepped back, breaking the moment like it never happened. "I have to take this."

As he walked off toward the hallway, Elena turned back to the ballroom - heart racing, thoughts tangled. She'd dealt with powerful men before. She knew the type. But there was something about Grayson Maddox that didn't fit in any box.

And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.