In The Eyes of a Thief

Emma Scott adjusted the straps of her apron for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to smooth out the creases that never seemed to stay in place. The grand ballroom shimmered with the glow of crystal chandeliers, casting soft golden light over the polished marble floors. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining the walls-her simple black apron and plain white shirt stood in stark contrast to the glittering gowns and tailored suits around her.

The clinking of glasses and soft murmur of voices filled the air, but Emma could barely hear it over the pounding of her heart.

Tonight, she wasn't Emma Scott, the girl with big dreams who worked two jobs. She was just another anonymous face in a sea of waitstaff, carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres for the city's elite. The kind of people whose names you only saw on glossy magazine covers, not in the same room as a small-town girl who could barely afford a decent meal. 

But she needed this job. She needed to save every penny to fund her design dreams, even if it meant spending nights surrounded by wealth that seemed so far out of reach. 

She pushed through the back door of the kitchen and into the main hall, the soft click of her heels echoing in the otherwise hushed space. She made her way toward a group of guests standing by the drink station, but as she rounded a corner, she collided with something-or other, someone.

The tray wobbled dangerously in her hands as she staggered back. "Oh! I'm so sorry," she blurted out, already reaching to steady the glasses.

But then she looked up.

The man who stood before her was nothing short of breathtaking. Tall, with dark, tousled hair that looked like it had been touched by the hands of a stylist and not a single strand out of place. His suit was fitted to perfection, the fabric rich and deep, hinting at a level of wealth she could only dream of. His sharp jawline was accentuated by a hint of stubble, and when he turned his eyes on her, she felt a flicker in her chest-icy blue eyes that seemed to cut through the chaos of the room, locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip.

"Careful," his voice was low and a little gravelly, as though he hadn't spoken much all night. It had a certain weight to it, something heavy that she couldn't quite place.