Bright camera lights flashed as Liya posed effortlessly, each angle more perfect than the last.
"Beautiful! One more, Liya! Perfect! Hold that!" the photographer gushed.
She tilted her head, her long hair cascading down her shoulders in perfect waves. Her skin glowed. Her smile could melt glaciers.
But as soon as the camera lowered, her expression shifted.
Gone was the dazzling warmth. Her face turned blank, cold even as she snatched a compact mirror from her assistant and inspected herself.
"I look bloated," she snapped.
"No, Liya, you look radiant!" her manager, Julian, chirped nervously. "The lighting just..."
"Fix it in editing. I'm not redoing the shoot," she cut in.
The stylist bowed, trembling. "Yes, of course, Liya…"
Liya stood, brushing invisible dust off her designer skirt. "Get me out of here. I have to prep for the award show. I want every camera on me tonight."
As she exited the room, she smiled sweetly at the staff who bowed in her wake.
"Thank you so much, everyone! Let's work hard together again next time!" Her voice was honeyed.
But the second the elevator doors shut behind her, she dropped the act.
Her shoulders slumped. Her face twisted, slightly.
A low hiss whispered by her ear.
Something… unseen. Something black. Like smoke behind her eyes.
Her body shivered.
She only leaned against the elevator wall, whispering, "I can't fall now. Not when I'm this close…"
Julian looked at her, concern etched into his face.
"You okay?"
She smiled at him a terrifyingly perfect, empty smile.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked.
"I'm perfect".She declared proudly.
Cassie grunted, adjusting her grip on the three-tiered, pastel-pink monstrosity of a cake that sat precariously in the box cradled against her chest.
"Why does it always have to be the triple-tier fondant ones?" she muttered, carefully stepping over a decorative stone laid in the cobbled path leading to the iron gates of a very rich neighborhood. "What happened to cupcakes and minimalism?"
The sun beat down on her as she reached the high, gilded gates of the estate. The mansion beyond was a sprawling estate bathed in golden afternoon light, with glimmering fountains, trimmed hedges in spiral shapes, and a driveway lined with imported palm trees. The house looked like it belonged on the cover of an architecture magazine or the lair of a TV villain.
Cassie's lips parted as she stared in awe.
"Holy crap!," she breathed, shifting the cake box. "This isn't a house. This is a palace. They could fit my entire apartment in their front porch."
She adjusted the cap on her head and stepped up to the guard post. Two men in black suits eyed her with suspicion. One of them a square-jawed guy with sunglasses that screamed I take my job too seriously raised a hand to stop her.
Cassie blinked. "Hi. I'm from Cherry Moon Bakery. I'm here to deliver the birthday cake for Miss... uh..." she said, tilting her head up with a polite smile. She fished into her jeans pocket and yanked out the crumpled receipt. "Miss Lucy. Says here it's for her twenty-first birthday party?"
The older guard raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a pass."
"No pass," the second guard repeated. "Delivery trucks were already cleared. You're not on the list."
Cassie scowled. "Well, I'm not a truck. I'm a tired woman with a cake that's threatening to fall apart in my arms."
"You're not on the list," the younger one added, folding his arms. "No one enters without clearance."
She sighed. "Okay, but hear me out...if I go back without delivering this, I not only get chewed out by my boss, I also lose out on the tip, which, by the way, might cover my bus fare for the week."
The first guard's expression didn't change. He folded his arms. "Rules are rules."
Cassie looked between them, then at the heavy gate, then back at the cake. "Can one of you just...come on, it's a cake. I'm not smuggling drugs in fondant form. Do I look like a bakery cartel?"
"No pass means no entry"
Cassie muttered a curse under her breath, glancing back at the street. "Can't one of you just...look, if I mess this up, I get fired. If I get fired, I can't pay rent. If I can't pay rent, I'll have to live in a box with my cake delivery uniform as a blanket."
The guards didn't budge. "Step back, miss."
She frowned. "Wow. You guys must be fun at parties."
"I said..."
"Let her in."
The command was crisp, assured, and came from behind them.
Cassie turned and then immediately straightened, her breath catching.
A tall man stood a few feet away, dressed in an immaculately tailored charcoal shirt rolled up at the sleeves, black slacks, and polished leather shoes. He had the kind of face that didn't belong in reality. Chiselled jaw, high cheekbones, sharp brows but what struck her most were his eyes. Stormy gray with flecks of blue, cool and assessing, as if he were watching the world from a distance he chose to maintain.
His hair was a mess of dark waves that somehow looked both tousled and intentional, and he carried himself like someone who didn't need to speak loudly to command a room.
The guards straightened immediately. "Master Ryan."
Cassie's brain stalled. Master Ryan?
"I said let her through," he repeated, glancing at the cake in Cassie's arms. "She's carrying the star of the party."
One guard hesitated. "But, sir..."
"She's clearly not here to crash the party in a hoodie and sneakers," he said dryly, then looked at Cassie again. "Are you?"
Cassie blinked. "Uh...no? Definitely not. Unless it pays better."
He grinned.
The guards stepped aside reluctantly, and Cassie walked through the gate, cheeks flushed. "Thanks," she mumbled.
"My pleasure," Rylan replied, casually falling into step beside her as she trudged toward the mansion. "You're the first person today who doesn't look like they're trying too hard. I like that."
Cassie raised a brow. "That's because I'm actually trying not to drop a $4000 cake."
"Is it really worth that much?"
"Apparently. I wouldn't know. I've been living off instant noodles all week."
He laughed. An easy, warm sound that made her stomach flip.
Cassie peeked at him from the corner of her eye. "You're... Rylan?"
"Rylan Hale," he offered.
"Oh." Cassie gave a half-nod. "And here I thought you were the guy about to fire me."
He chuckled again. "I could be. If you dropped that cake."
"Then I better not."
As they reached the front steps, Cassie glanced around again. Party decorators hurried about, stringing lights and arranging flower walls. She could hear someone laughing indoors, followed by a high-pitched voice barking orders.
Cassie exhaled. "I bet the people here have never even seen a secondhand toaster."
Rylan smirked. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Not bad. Just... different. Very different."
He stopped, then looked at her a little longer than necessary. "I like different."
Before Cassie could figure out how to respond to that, a woman's voice called sharply from inside.
"Rylan! Where the hell is my cake?!"
Cassie winced. "That must be the birthday girl."
Rylan tilted his head. "Welcome to the madness, Cassie."
She smiled despite herself. "I'll just drop this off and flee before someone throws a drink in my face."
But before she could escape into the mansion, Rylan gently touched her arm.
"Hey...if you're still around after, maybe you could stay. Just for a while."
Cassie looked up, startled.
"I'm not like the rest of them," he said with a crooked smile. "And you seem... interesting."
For a moment, she felt something stir. A flicker of something unfamiliar. Excitement?
But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"Thanks," she said softly. "But I don't belong here."
And with that, she turned and walked into the mansion, leaving behind a man who looked, for the first time in a while, genuinely intrigued.