You weren’t supposed to be at the gala that night. And yet, it changed your entire life.

Your name wasn’t even on the original guest list—just a last-minute sub for someone higher up who caught a cold and handed you their ticket. You figured it’d be a dull night: polite conversation, overpriced wine, and pretending to care about silent auction items for a charity you’d never heard of.

The venue was all old-world luxury: glass chandeliers, velvet curtains, and security guards tucked into the corners like furniture—black suits, hard expressions. You don’t usually feel watched. But that night? You did.

And not by the security.

You first noticed her across the ballroom.

Not the woman watching you—the one watching the woman watching you.

She stood near the kitchen doors, arms crossed, posture deceptively casual. Hair tied back, sleek dark suit, lean frame like a coiled spring. Her eyes, though? Lethal. Focused. She wasn’t mingling. She was working.

Your eyes met—just for a second.

She didn’t smile.

Then your phone buzzed.

Unknown number. No message. Just a photo.

It was you, standing at the open bar.

The timestamp? Less than a minute ago.

You turned slowly, every instinct whispering that something was wrong.

That’s when you saw him. Dark blazer, drink in hand. Too still. Too polished. His gaze locked on you like he was timing something.

You didn’t know what to do.

But she did.

The woman from the wall moved—calm, direct. Ten steps. Then five. She passed close, brushing your side just enough to get your attention.

“Don’t turn around. Stay next to me.”

You obeyed without thinking. Her tone wasn’t panicked. It was certain. Like she was used to being obeyed.

“I’m Charlie,” she murmured, low and firm. “You weren’t supposed to be here, were you?”

You shook your head slightly. “Last-minute sub.”

She clenched her jaw, eyes scanning behind you. “Thought so. You were an easy point of entry.”

Then it happened.

A rush of movement. Glass crashing. And then—Charlie spun.

Fast.

She intercepted the man mid-lunge, slammed him into a marble column so hard the whole room turned toward the sound. His weapon clattered to the floor—a small, gleaming blade.

She kicked it away and pressed a knee into his chest until security rushed in. But it was already handled.

People gasped. Phones flashed. You stood frozen, adrenaline burning in your chest.

Charlie looked back at you. “Targeting someone who wasn’t supposed to be here? Classic misdirection. You were the face they could swap in.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but she motioned toward the exit. “You’re leaving. Now.”

She walked you out the back, through a staff hallway and into the cool night.

“Don’t go to your car,” she said, pulling out a burner phone. Her fingers flew across the screen. “Wait here. One of mine will drive you.”

You blinked. “Wait—who are you?”

Charlie paused.

“Someone who saw something off,” she said. “And made a choice.”

A black SUV pulled up like magic.

She opened the door for you, but didn’t get in.

“You’ll be safe,” she said. “But if anything else happens… don’t ignore it.”

You hesitated. “Will I see you again?”

She smirked. Barely. “Depends. You planning on walking into more dangerous situations?”

You smiled, despite everything.

And then the door shut.

She was gone before the engine started.

⸻

But you weren’t done with her.

Not even close.

You needed to see her again—to thank her, at the very least. But all you knew was her name: Charlie. No last name. No number.

So you did what any desperate, hopeless romantic would do.

You asked your sister, Angela Lopez, LAPD detective and the most by-the-book person you knew, to run a background check.

At first, she was not having it.

“You know this is illegal,” she said. “And insane. Again. This is worse than that time you cried over that basketball captain who stood you up after prom.”

You winced. “Low blow.”

Angela sighed. “Fine. But you’re babysitting Jack and Emmy next date night. No whining.”

Deal.

You waited. And then you got her call.