A Fair Arrangement

Chapter One

Aurora

The bass shakes the floor beneath my heels, a low, steady vibration that rises up through my legs and settles in my chest like a second heartbeat. It mixes with the anticipation already thrumming inside me, leaving my skin buzzing and my pulse quick. I stand in front of the enormous vintage mirror the venue installed for the backstage prep area, staring at my reflection like I’m trying to memorize it.

I smooth my hair again, because every time I look at myself, I find a new strand out of place, a new flyaway trying to ruin the sleek aesthetic I’ve worked so hard to achieve tonight. A few deep breaths do nothing to settle me—not with how charged the atmosphere is. Not with how much tonight matters.

This event is the biggest thing I’ve ever organized. Months of planning. Months of networking, negotiating, budgeting, scheduling, and smiling through bullshit. Silver drapes glitter under dim spotlights. The floral arrangements—custom, imported—fill the room with the sweet scent of fresh jasmine and soft peony. The glassware sparkles. The lighting is dreamy.

Every vendor showed up. Every influencer RSVP’d. Every detail is flawless.

This is the night that could push my company into the upper tier of event coordinators. This is the night that could secure my future.

“Perfect,” I whisper to myself as I fix a tiny wrinkle in my fitted emerald dress. I practice smiling in the mirror. Not too forced. Not too bright. Confident. Capable. Cool under pressure.

A voice cuts through the music like a razor. “Where is she?”

I turn, and there she is—Veronica Sterling, the woman whose product launch I’ve been killing myself over. She’s wearing a pearl-white jumpsuit, hair pulled into a sleek topknot, agitation radiating off her in waves. She’s tapping her manicured nails on her phone screen, pacing like a corporate shark in six-inch stilettos.

“Veronica,” I say, stepping forward with a practiced calm. “Everything is ready. We’re just adding final touches.”

“Final touches?” She whips around to face me, eyes wide and irritated. “Aurora, the guests are already arriving. There can’t be any ‘final touches.’ Everything should be perfect now.”

“It is,” I reassure her. “You don’t have to worry.”

But even as the words leave my lips, I feel the crack in my confidence. What if something goes wrong? What if something slips? What if everything falls apart right when I need it to shine?

Before I can talk myself out of the thought, the large double doors at the back of the event hall swing open. The room shifts—subtly, but undeniably. Heads turn. Conversations lower.

Samuel Kane walks in.

Sam is impossible to ignore. He’s not loud. He’s not flamboyant. He’s simply built like a linebacker with the face of a mathematician’s fever dream. The combination shouldn’t work, but somehow it does. Dark sweater vest. Rolled-up sleeves showing muscled forearms that absolutely shouldn’t belong to a man who spends most of his life behind screens and code. Broad shoulders. Strong jaw. Quiet authority.

He looks determined as he scans the room, then locks on me and strides forward.

“Aurora,” he says, his voice sharp and unwavering. “We need to talk.”

Oh no.

“Sam,” I sigh, dragging him away from Veronica and out of earshot. “I’m in the middle of something critical right now.”

“So am I.” He lifts a tablet, the screen glowing data I can’t decipher. “We have to shut this place down.”

“What?” My voice cracks. “We open in twenty minutes. We cannot shut anything down.”

He pushes the tablet toward me. “There’s a data breach.”

I blink at him. “The wi-fi?”

“Not just the wi-fi,” he says. “Someone piggybacked onto the building’s network. They could access any connected device in the room. Phones, tablets, cameras. If someone logs in here with personal info, they could get wiped.”

My stomach drops. “Okay, then we tell everyone not to use the wi-fi.”

“Unplug it,” he adds. “Shut it off.”

“Sam,” I grit out, “half my vendors need wi-fi to run their stations. Checkout requires it. The card readers require it. If we unplug, we lose the ability to sell. We lose the ability to check people in. This entire event collapses.”

He grimaces. “I’m sorry. I tried to patch the system. Rebooted the networks. Even set up a secondary firewall. But the vulnerability’s still open. Someone targeted this event, Aurora. I can’t risk people’s information.”

Panic surges through me.

I never panic.

Not when a bride fainted in my arms right before walking down the aisle. Not when a five-year-old ring bearer spilled fruit punch across a seventy-thousand-dollar carpet at a senator’s fundraiser. Not even when Stella Iverson’s designer gown ripped right up the seam moments before she walked through a sea of paparazzi—something I fixed so flawlessly that no one ever knew.

But this?

This is different.

A shutdown means failure. Failure means the end.

“Sam,” I hiss, grabbing his forearm without thinking. His muscles flex under my palm, hard and warm. Dammit. Distracting. “Please. I am begging you. You cannot shut this down.”

He looks at me, something almost sympathetic flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know what this event means to you. I’ve watched you bust your ass for weeks. But if someone’s private data leaks—if a celebrity’s nudes hit the internet because of an unsecured server—you won’t just lose this client. You’ll lose your license. Your reputation. Everything.”

“I already have everything on the line,” I whisper.

“And I’m trying to stop you from losing more,” he counters.

“Sam—”

“I’m not asking you,” he says quietly. “I’m telling you. This event is done.”

“Don’t do this,” I whisper, voice cracking. “Please.”

He looks away, jaw tight.

Then, “Are you telling her, or am I?”

My heart thuds painfully.

I swallow hard. “Let me talk to Veronica.”

“Five minutes,” he says. “Then I shut it down myself.”

When I approach Veronica, she arches one perfectly sculpted brow. “This better be good.”

I inhale shakily. “There’s a wi-fi breach. A serious one. Sam says we… we have to cancel.”

“You’re joking.” Her voice goes flat.

“I’m not,” I whisper.

“This is a two-hundred-thousand-dollar launch,” she snaps. “Taylor Wright is here. Taylor Wright, Aurora. She doesn’t even attend her own company’s events.”

“I know. I promise you, I know. We will reschedule—”

“We will do no such thing,” Veronica says. “The event will proceed.”

She storms toward the doors, but Sam steps in her way. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn’t have to.

“I’m shutting this down,” he says.

“No!” My voice cracks.

He continues, “My staff will check every device. Kane Security will cover recommendations for secure venues. Your insurance has been notified.”

Veronica stares at him, her mouth open in pure disbelief. Then she turns on me like a viper.

“How could you let this happen?” she hisses. “You’ve ruined everything.”

“I—”

“No excuses. You’re done. Do you hear me? Blacklisted.”

The word hits like a bullet.

Event staff begin dismantling everything—the flowers, the lights, the photo booth, the champagne tower. Hours of labor undone in seconds.

My throat burns. The world blurs.

I stumble outside into the crisp night air, but the chaos follows—guests murmuring, security weaving through them, people checking their phones nervously.

My dream dissolves in real time.

And Sam is at the center of it all, calm and composed, issuing instructions like he hasn’t just obliterated my entire future.

“Sam!” I shout.

His head snaps up. For the first time tonight, something like frustration flickers in his eyes.

I storm toward him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”

“Yes,” he replies. “I prevented a catastrophe.”

“You destroyed my career.”

“You’re being dramatic,” he says evenly.

“Dramatic?” My voice cracks, sharp. “My reputation is gone. Veronica will tell everyone I’m incompetent. This was my one chance to prove myself.”

“And you did,” he says. “You built an incredible event. You just chose the wrong venue.”

“I didn’t choose this venue. She did.”

“And we warned her,” he says pointedly. “My team warned her three times about security failures. She didn’t care.”

“That doesn’t fix anything,” I whisper.

“I know.” His voice softens. “But I can fix this part. I’ll protect your company from the fallout.”

“I don't need you to save me.”

“Aurora,” he says quietly, “I’m trying to help.”

“Help?” I laugh, the sound breaking. “You walked in here, ignored everything I’ve built, and crushed it without hesitation.”

His expression wavers. Just a little.

“Safety comes first,” he says. “Always.”

“This wasn’t about safety,” I snap, taking a shaky step back. “This was about control.”

His jaw clenches. Something raw flashes in his eyes. “I did what I had to.”

“And I’ll never forgive you for it.” My voice trembles. “I hate you, Samuel Kane.”

His eyes flicker—hurt, anger, something deeper—and then go blank.

“Aurora—”

“No.” I step back again, chest tight. “Don’t ever speak to me again.”

And before he can answer, before he can say anything that might undo the fragile dam holding back my tears, I turn and walk away—past the confused guests, the half-dismantled décor, the security guards checking phones.

Away from Sam.

Away from the wreckage.

Away from the life I just watched shatter in my hands.

I don’t look back. Not once.