There are two kinds of men in this world: men who earn attention and men who expect it.
Roman Claudius?
He's the only man who doesn't just expect attention — he forces it. He walks into a room like attention is a currency, and he owns the bank.
The air in the Grand Imperial Ballroom smells of vintage champagne and old, rotting ego. I smoothed down the silk of my thrift-store dress — the only thing in the room that wasn't trying to shout its own price tag.
Crystal chandeliers drip with golden light, and soft music drifts through the air like smoke. Women look like temptation, and men look like power.
And me?
Honestly, I didn't really belong to the circle. I was there to serve hors d'oeuvres to the elite so I could pay Leo's rent while he recovered from a surgery that had drained our savings.
Suddenly, the room went silent.
Women straightened up. Men stiffened.
It was not a respectful silence; it was the kind of hush that follows a predator into a clearing.
Roman Claudius has arrived.
He doesn't just walk — he owns the floor beneath him. His suit probably costs more than my biggest dream, and his face looks carved from cold, unyielding marble, like something you'd find in ancient ruins. He seems like a man who's never been told he's wrong.
His gaze swept lazily across the room as he took his seat in the VIP section, right next to the table I was serving.
I kept my head down, balancing the silver tray, until a shadow fell over the light.
"Are you new here?" A velvet-voiced gravelly tone vibrated through my chest.
I looked up. Roman was staring at me — not like a guest looking at a server, but like a biologist studying a new species of insect.
"Yes, sir!" I replied, my voice steady. "Would you like a truffle?"
He didn't look at the tray. His icy blue eyes stayed fixed on mine. "I don't want the food. I want the girl holding it."
A few women nearby gasped. I feel warmth creep up my neck, but that's the least of my worries. I was eager to move on and attend to other guests.
"I'm not on the menu, Mr. Roman," I said, lowering my voice. "And even if I were, you couldn't afford the tip."
The room seemed to lose its breath. Roman's lips didn't turn into a smile, his eyes darkened. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a gold-plated fountain pen, and grabbed a napkin from my tray. He scribbled numbers — with so many zeros it looked like a phone number — and pushed it into my apron pocket.
"That's for one hour of your time," he says, stepping so close that I could smell his cologne — sandalwood and power. "I need to see you later tonight. My current one just became… redundant."
I looked at the napkin. Then I looked at him.
"My time is currently paid for by the catering company at twenty dollars an hour," I said, taking the napkin out and dropping it onto the tray, right into a puddle of spilled sauce. "And strangely enough, I think I'm overpaid compared to what I'd have to endure sitting next to someone who thinks money can replace respect."
The room fell into a deafening silence. Roman's jaw tightened, a small muscle twitching in his cheek.
A voice whispered from the crowd: "This waitress is too proud. The guts to address Claudius International's CEO casually are unimaginable."
Whatever!. Roman should have justified his title through his character. For now, I will address it accordingly.
"How dare you talk to me like that?" he shouted, voice dangerous. "I can buy this entire building, fire everyone you've ever met, and make sure you never work in this city again — all before dessert."
I lean in, my heart pounding, not out of fear, but out of anger. I wondered how someone so sane could be this proud and petty at the same time. Like who cares?
"Roman, you can buy the building. You can buy the city. But you'll still go home tonight to a bed full of paid guests," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "And I'll be going home to a man who loves me for free. That, I think, makes me richer than you."
I turned around and stormed off, leaving the most powerful man in the city standing there with a sauce-stained check and a bruised ego. I managed just three steps before a firm hand grabbed my wrist. It wasn't aggressive, but it was definite.
"Wait!" the voice growled. "Don't be rude or you'll pay the price forever. Nobody says 'no' to my boss."
I looked down at the hand, then back at his face. It was one of Roman's security guards.
"Let me go, or I'll scream. And trust me, the press would love a headline about the 'King of the city' assaulting a waitress."
The guard pulled me closer, clearly impatient. Roman's eyes weren't just cold now—they were intense.
"I'll give you a choice, Eva," he said, and my blood went cold. He knew my name. "You can walk out that door and wonder when the hammer will fall. Or you can take the check and realize that everyone—everyone—has a price."
"Then you're going to be waiting a long time, Roman," I snapped. "Because my price is something you haven't earned—'Respect'."
Fury and frustration flashed across his face as he signaled his guards to release me.
Immediately, the party ended. I walked away, my legs trembling but my head held high. I didn't notice how he watched me or signal to his head of security. I was only thinking about how he knew me. Whatever that means, it's time to return to the man I love. I hurried to the train station.
But just as I stepped onto the train, a figure in dark clothing and muscle suddenly blocked my way. A man with a silent, predatory grace, who moved as if he was on a mission—just appeared in my path. He didn't speak. Instead, he held out a thick, cream-colored envelope.
I recognized it as one of Roman's guards, but I couldn't understand why he had sent him. I took the envelope, my fingers trembling slightly.
The moment the envelope left his hand, he retreated into the shadows without a word.
The note inside read:
'Tonight, you believe it's a conclusion, Eva. But it's just the beginning. Return to your world, but remember, every 'no' carries a cost. I'm patient, but I always get what I want. Take care; the price will become clear soon. And most importantly, pass on my regards to your hero, Leo.'