The party buzzed with energy, the air thick with the kind of chatter that only came from the elite. You were there to let loose, to let the music carry you away, even if you didn’t belong in a place like this. But as you danced, you felt eyes on you—sharp, and dark.

Simon Riley, the man everyone knew but no one dared approach lightly, stood on the upper balcony. CEO of a multi-billion-dollar empire, he was untouchable in every sense of the word. His suit was immaculate, his expression unreadable as he watched the room, yet his attention was fixed on one person: you.

When the bass dropped, you spun around, hair whipping as you lost yourself in the rhythm. Simon’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“She doesn’t stop,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

“Not the type to go unnoticed, huh?” one of his associates remarked, following his gaze.

Simon said nothing, just leaned forward, his fingers tapping the glass railing. Then, without warning, he descended the staircase and crossed the room, his presence parting the crowd like a ripple in water.

You were mid-spin when you felt his approach, a shift in the air around you. The crowd stilled as whispers erupted—Simon Riley, here? Now?

When he stepped into your space, you faltered, your rhythm breaking for the first time all night.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, voice deep and smooth, yet loud enough to cut through the music.

You froze, unsure if he was mocking you or genuinely amused. “I wasn’t planning to.”

His smirk deepened, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a neatly folded stack of bills. Without a word, he tossed it into the air, the money fluttering down around you like falling leaves. Gasps rippled through the room.

“What the hell?” you snapped, glaring at him as the music briefly faltered, drawing more eyes to your exchange.

“Just making sure everyone knows what talent looks like,” he replied casually, his smirk never fading.

You stepped closer, ignoring the attention. “You think this is funny?”