Eleanor Hayes knew something was wrong the moment her heel touched the marble. There was no time to understand what.

Despite the powerful declaration in the library, Eleanor insisted on taking a brief step back to ensure that her feelings and Dominic's were built on a true foundation, rather than the adrenaline of shared trauma.

She moved into a charming, quiet apartment in Kensington, taking a temporary job as an events consultant for a luxury boutique firm in central London.

Dominic, however, had no intention of letting her slip away.

The formidable titan of industry, who rarely attended high-society galas or public functions, suddenly became a staple of London’s high-class social scene—specifically events where Eleanor was working.

One evening, at an exclusive charity auction at the Victoria and Albert Museum, Eleanor stood near the side stage, managing the catering staff and verifying the auction items.

She wore an elegant, simple black velvet gown that hugged her curves, her dark hair pinned up in a graceful chignon.

A sudden murmur rippled through the elite crowd of diplomats, aristocrats, and business moguls.

Eleanor looked up to see Dominic Moretti walking into the grand hall. He looked extraordinarily handsome in a bespoke black tuxedo, his silver-touched hair perfectly styled, his commanding presence instantly drawing every eye in the room.

Walking beside him was Julian, looking handsome and confident in his own formal suit.

Members of London high society stared in shock. Dominic Moretti had not attended a public charity gala in over a decade.

Dominic ignored the eager socialites trying to greet him, stepping straight past aristocrats and corporate executives, walking directly toward the side of the stage where Eleanor stood.

The whispers grew louder.

"Who is she?" "Is that the woman working the event?" "Why is Dominic Moretti approaching a staff member?"

Dominic stopped in front of Eleanor, a faint, incredibly rare smile gracing his lips. He pulled a single, rare black orchid from his lapel and held it out to her.

"Good evening, Miss Hayes," he said, his deep voice carrying clearly over the silent room.

Eleanor felt her cheeks flush with heat, but she accepted the flower with a graceful smile. "Mr. Moretti. I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"I heard the event was being managed by the finest logistical mind in England," Dominic replied smoothly, ignoring the dozens of cameras flashing from the press gallery nearby. "I came to offer a bid."

Julian stepped up beside his father, grinning broadly at Eleanor. "He didn't come to bid on the artwork, Eleanor. He came to bid on you."

Several wealthy socialites near the front row gasped.

Before Eleanor could process the public display, Lady Penelope Vance—a distant, snobbish relative of Maria’s family who had managed to escape the corporate scandal—stepped forward, her face twisted in disdain.

"Dominic, really!" Lady Penelope squawked loudly. "Parading around with a hired servant at a high-society event? Have you no respect for your family name?"

Dominic turned slowly, his grey eyes turning to ice as he looked down at Lady Penelope.

"Eleanor Hayes is the woman who saved my son’s life and restored my family's honor," Dominic stated, his powerful voice reverberating across the museum hall. "She possesses more dignity, courage, and nobility in her little finger than the entirety of London high society. If you ever disrespect her in my presence again, Penelope, I will ensure your family’s credit lines across Europe are severed by morning."

Lady Penelope turned pale red, stuttered incoherently, and immediately retreated into the crowd.

Dominic turned back to Eleanor, holding out his hand to her. "Dance with me, Eleanor."