Gisele practically shoved Kelsi back into their leather booth, slamming the cocktails onto the table.

"Spill it," Gisele demanded, leaning across the table. "Who the hell is that? He looks like he walked straight out of a GQ editorial shoot."

Kelsi took a sip of her drink, wincing slightly as the alcohol hit her stomach. "I met him in London a year ago. He's an artist. We only talked for a few minutes."

Gisele's eyes narrowed as her internal radar began to spin. She tapped her manicured fingernail against her chin.

"An artist," Gisele mused. "And his name is Yannis. Sounds Greek. Very exotic."

"He said he just moved back from London because the opportunities there dried up," Kelsi added, tracing the rim of her glass.

Gisele slammed her hand on the table again. "I knew it! Kelsi, I am a genius. He is the textbook definition of a struggling, repatriated artist."

Kelsi frowned. "What makes you say that?"

Gisele waved her hands emphatically, dissecting the man they had just left in the hallway. "Did you look at his clothes? That leather jacket was gorgeous. The cut was perfect. But did you see the cuffs? The leather was worn down at the edges. The collar was faded."

Kelsi thought back to the moment he had caught her. She had been close enough to smell the leather and cedarwood on him. Gisele was right; the jacket looked heavily worn.

"What does that mean?" Kelsi asked.

"It means he has incredible taste, but absolutely no money," Gisele declared triumphantly. "He bought one expensive jacket years ago and has to wear it every single day. It's called 'exquisite poverty'."

It sounded absurd, but Kelsi found herself nodding slowly.

"And think about what he said," Gisele continued, leaning in closer. "The opportunities dried up. Did you see his eyes when he said that? There was this flash of... defeat. He's probably incredibly talented, but the art world is brutal. He's back in New York trying to hustle, and I bet you anything he can barely afford his rent."

Kelsi stared at the melting ice in her glass. Gisele's theory fit perfectly. It explained the contradiction in him-the arrogant, powerful way he carried himself, mixed with the worn clothes and the quiet admission of failure.

A strange pang of sympathy tightened Kelsi's chest. He was so handsome, so clearly intelligent, yet he was struggling just to survive in a city that ate people alive.

"So," Gisele wiggled her eyebrows. "Are you going to go for it? A hot, tragic artist is the perfect rebound. And the way he was looking at you... trust me, he is interested."

Kelsi shook her head immediately. "Stop it. I literally broke off my engagement this morning. I am not looking for a rebound, especially not with someone who has his own problems to deal with."

Despite her words, the image of Yannis's dark eyes burned in her mind.

Across the club, in the dark corner of the VIP lounge, Augustus sat down on a velvet sofa.

Chase Cabrera, a notorious playboy and one of Augustus's oldest friends, handed him a fresh glass of whiskey.

"Where did you disappear to?" Chase asked, eyeing him curiously. "I saw you talking to Gisele Vazquez's friend down there."

Augustus took a slow sip of his drink. He didn't confirm or deny it.

Chase smirked, leaning back. "You interested in her? That's Kelsi Owens. She's engaged to Jeb Harrington. The wedding is supposed to be huge."

Augustus lowered his glass. His eyes performed a slow, calculating sweep of the room before locking onto Chase. His voice was dangerously quiet.

"They won't have a wedding."

Chase froze, his glass halfway to his mouth. "How do you know that?"

Augustus ignored the question. "How well do you know Gisele Vazquez?"

Chase shrugged, confused by the sudden shift. "Well enough. We run in the same circles. See her at parties. Why? You want me to pump her for information?"

"I need to know everything about Kelsi Owens," Augustus commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Specifically, I need to know exactly what happened between her and Jeb Harrington in the last twenty-four hours."

Chase let out a low whistle. "You're serious about this. Alright, consider it done. But I have to ask... careful, that's Jeb Harrington's fiancée. Are you planning on poaching her?"

Augustus looked through the glass partition, his eyes finding Kelsi in the booth below. He watched her laugh at something Gisele said. The possessiveness that flared in his chest was violent and absolute. His mind drifted back to that gallery in London a year ago. She had thought he was just a struggling artist featured in the exhibit. She didn't know he had bought the entire gallery a week before the show, filling it with works from artists he sponsored, just so he could put his alias on one piece and have an excuse to finally speak to her.

He didn't answer Chase. He didn't need to.

The next morning, Kelsi woke up in Gisele's guest bed with a pounding headache. The hangover was brutal, but the crushing weight of her breakup felt slightly lighter in the harsh light of day.

Gisele kicked the door open, carrying two mugs of black coffee and a bottle of Advil.

"Drink. Swallow. Wake up," Gisele ordered, shoving a mug into Kelsi's hands.

Gisele sat on the edge of the bed, aggressively scrolling through her phone. Suddenly, she gasped loudly.

"Look at this!" Gisele shoved the phone screen into Kelsi's face.

Kelsi squinted. It was a digital news article. The headline read: Russo Family Foundation Annual Charity Gala Invitations Dispatched.

"The Russo Gala," Gisele breathed reverently. "It is the most exclusive event in New York. Billionaires, politicians, A-list celebrities. It's the ultimate playground."

Kelsi rubbed her temples. "Okay. And?"

"And," Gisele waved her hands, "this is the perfect place for you to make your grand reappearance! You walk in there looking like a goddess, completely unbothered. It will drive Jeb insane when he sees the photos."

"Gisele, I don't want to go to a billionaire's party," Kelsi sighed. "And we don't even have invitations."

Gisele smirked. "Leave that to me. The lawyer I'm currently dating? His boss is the legal counsel for the Russo Group. I can absolutely pull some strings and get us on the guest list."

Kelsi wanted to say no, but Gisele's relentless enthusiasm was hard to fight. She finally nodded, agreeing to think about it.

As she sipped her coffee, a random thought crossed her mind. She thought about Yannis. An artist struggling to pay rent would never even see the outside of a party like the Russo Gala. She felt a sudden, sharp stab of guilt for her own privilege.

Ten miles away, in the towering glass monolith of the Russo Group headquarters, Augustus Russo stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. The entire city of Manhattan was spread out beneath his feet.

He held his phone to his ear.

"I got the intel," Chase Cabrera's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding entirely too excited. "I texted Gisele last night. Played it cool."

"Talk," Augustus said, his voice flat and commanding.

"The breakup is real. Kelsi dumped him," Chase reported. "The reason is insane. Jeb ditched her while she was trying on her wedding dress to go comfort his sister-in-law. Then, Kelsi had an emergency appendectomy that same night, and Jeb ignored her calls because he was at a party with the sister-in-law."

Augustus's grip on his phone tightened. His knuckles turned white. A cold, lethal fury settled in his gut.

He knew Jeb Harrington was a weak, entitled fool, but he hadn't realized the extent of his cruelty.

"Kelsi moved out of his penthouse," Chase continued. "She's staying in Gisele's guest room in SoHo right now. Oh, and Gisele was fishing around, trying to see if I could get them tickets to your charity gala. She wants to use it as Kelsi's 'coming out' party."

A slow, dark smile curved Augustus's lips.

It was almost too easy.

"Call the foundation directors," Augustus ordered. "Have them courier two VIP invitations to Gisele Vazquez's apartment. Send them from the foundation's executive office and use the chairman's official seal."

Chase choked on his spit. "The chairman's seal? Augustus, you never authorize that level of access for public events."

"Just do it," Augustus snapped. "And Chase? Find out if there are any luxury apartments available for lease or purchase in Gisele's building. Or the building directly next door."

Silence hung on the line for three seconds.

"You want to be her neighbor?" Chase asked, his voice full of disbelief. "Augustus, are you playing a game here, or are you actually insane?"

Augustus hung up the phone without answering.

He turned around as his executive assistant, A. J. Finch, walked into the office. Finch placed a thick manila folder on the massive mahogany desk.

"The complete background file on Kelsi Owens, sir, as requested," Finch said professionally.

Augustus sat down and opened the file. He read through the pages meticulously. He read about her parents dying in a car crash when she was eight. He read about her moving in with her aunt and uncle, the Crowleys, in Queens.

His eyes stopped on a legal flag near the back of the file. Ten years ago, Declan Crowley had attempted to forge documents to transfer Kelsi's trust fund into his own business account. The attempt had failed, but it was buried in the legal records.

Augustus closed the folder. His jaw ticked.

She had been surrounded by parasites her entire life.

He picked up his pen. He knew exactly what his next move was.