Heal

Chapter 3

Y/n's POV
Brooklyn Nets Gala
New York, NY

The gala continued to buzz with energy as the night unfolded. Laughter echoed through the grand ballroom, the clink of champagne glasses and the rustle of silk gowns filling the air. The investors were playing their part, making sure the event had all the glitz and glamour that matched the magnitude of what was at stake. I stood near the edge of the room, keeping to myself, analyzing every moment, every exchange of looks. I wasn't a fan of these types of events—too much noise, too many distractions—but I couldn't afford to look anything less than part of the spectacle tonight.

The heavy scent of perfume lingered in the air, mingling with the sound of murmurs from high-profile businessmen and women whispering about their latest projects and upcoming ventures. The hum of conversation wrapped around me like a thick blanket, but I wasn't paying attention to any of it. My eyes were on the stage. The moment I'd been waiting for was approaching.

Suddenly, I felt a hand tap my shoulder, snapping me from my thoughts. I turned, recognizing the sharp, confident face of the majority owner of the Brooklyn Nets, a man who went by the name Julian Cartwright. A smooth-talking, well-versed business mogul with a penchant for playing both sides of the field. I could tell he was already a little tipsy, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His ever-present grin was plastered across his face, the kind that didn't reach his eyes.

"Y/n, my dear," he said, his voice smooth as velvet. "The night's moving fast, isn't it? We need to get you mingling with the right people. Come, let me introduce you to a few folks."

His tone was too casual, too practiced, as if he already knew I was going to try to keep my distance. He clearly had no intention of letting me slip away unnoticed, not when so much was riding on this deal.

He motioned for me to follow him, and against my better judgment, I did. We wound through the crowd, the click of my heels echoing on the marble floor as we approached a small group gathered near the back of the room. As I neared, I saw who was at the center of the circle: Jay-Z and Beyoncé. The investors' favorite power couple, the pair who had made their mark in every business sector imaginable.

Beyoncé was dressed in a strapless, shimmering silver gown that caught the light in a way that made her look like she belonged on a stage, not in a ballroom. Her hair was styled to perfection, cascading in soft waves down her back. She smiled as she spoke to those around her, but there was something distant in her gaze. Jay-Z, on the other hand, stood with his typical air of indifference, wearing a sharp tuxedo with a faint sheen. His presence was undeniable, though he appeared completely unbothered by the crowd.

Cartwright put a hand on my shoulder, nudging me forward. "Y/n, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Shawn 'Jay-Z' Carter and his lovely wife, Beyoncé."

The smile I offered was as tight as a wire, but I pushed through the irritation that bubbled under my skin. This was all part of the show. I extended my hand to Jay-Z first, keeping my demeanor business-like. He took it, his grip firm and calculating.

"Jay," I said, my tone polite but flat. "A pleasure."

His smile was small, almost predatory. "The pleasure's mine, Y/n," he replied, his voice smooth like honey, though there was a glint in his eyes that made my instincts flare. He knew what this game was about.

Next, I turned toward Beyoncé. She extended her hand, and I took it, noting how perfect her skin looked, how flawless she seemed. She wasn't as warm as I had expected, but she was never a woman to overdo it with pleasantries. Her hand was cool and delicate in mine.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n," Beyoncé said, her voice as calm as the evening sky. There was an air of quiet authority in her words, but it was nothing I hadn't encountered before. I didn't let it throw me off.