Nicholas Riorason — the name alone turned heads. A global star born into wealth, but admired for his raw talent and undeniable charm. As he walked up the grand steps of the Met Gala in a perfectly tailored black tux, cameras flashed wildly. He paused, posed — every move effortless, every glance magnetic.

Then he saw her.

Standing just off to the side, dressed in a sleek black gown with a sweetheart neckline, she looked like she belonged on the carpet, not behind it. A minimal necklace shimmered at her collarbone, matched by elegant earrings, and her hair was pulled back with quiet confidence. The ID clipped at her waist revealed she was staff — one of the many who made sure everything ran seamlessly.

But there was nothing ordinary about her.

She was mesmerising — poised, graceful, untouched by the chaos around her. In that moment, Nicholas wasn’t thinking about the press or the flashes.

He was looking only at her. And for the first time that night, he smiled — not for the cameras… but for her.