I'm on my fifth glass of champagne, and the night is still young. I can't help myself, guzzling the alcohol like there's no tomorrow. Nerves are getting the better of me, like I always knew they would.

The classical violin quartet echoes through to my bones, reminding me how little I belong here. It's not a genre that I listen to, unless the occasional hold music used by insurance companies counts. Every note reminds me of Pride and Prejudice, forcing the image of polite, well-mannered ladies into my head. Consciously, I straighten my back, holding my head slightly higher as I clutch the champagne flute tighter.

I could turn around right now, run away from this mess and never look back. Forget every single part of it and disappear to the other side of London.

Yet she's already paid to get my hair styled and highlighted. She's filled my make-up bag with all the expensive brands. Before this month, Mac and Armani were mere names to me. Nothing more, nothing less. She had a dress made just for me, the soft, dark-blue material hugging every one of my curves. It falls to the floor, hiding my stiletto-clad feet. She paid for the gorgeous French manicure and relaxing pedicure too, my hands and feet looking like they never have before. Every damn hair on my body has been removed, whether by wax, tweezers or laser – it's gone.

I'd be a liar if I said I didn't enjoy every minute of it. Who wouldn't?

If I leave now, she'll lose her mind. She's been my friend for so many years and I want nothing more than to repay her kindness by helping her anyway I can. Plus, I certainly can't afford to pay her back for any of the lavishness that's been thrust upon me. Just one glance at this extravagant ballroom tells me that. The gold that decorates the ceiling swirls down the walls, complemented by small areas of plain white paint. The tall, arched windows are outlined with the same gold, which glows under the light of the huge chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling, dominating the room. I have no idea how genuine diamonds look, yet the way the gems glint in the light, casting tiny rainbows around the room, has me fairly positive they're real.

I'm out of my depth.

'Thank you.' I smile at the nearest waiter as he passes by with another tray, quickly swapping my empty glass for a full one, needing as much liquid courage as possible.

I turn back to look at the crowded, elaborate room once more, nearly stumbling, my left heel sliding out from under me. Ungracefully regaining my composure, I peer at the fizzing bubbles in the glass. Whoa... maybe I need to slow down with this stuff. Or maybe it's these stupid freaking five-inch heels I've been forced to wear. At least the ones I wear at work are usually platforms, which don't leave you quite as off balance.

'Are you okay?' The sudden deep voice has my eyes widening, surprised that someone has noticed me. Taking a deep breath as my heart begins to involuntarily speed up, I slowly look up from my clumsy feet, nerves threatening to overwhelm me.

My gaze instantly falls onto the most handsome man I've seen in my twenty-four years of life. He's tall, his skin tanned, his dark-brown hair falling ever so slightly beyond his brow, like it needs a cut. The emerald green of his eyes stands out from the rest of his features, immediately drawing my entire attention straight to them.

My lips part slightly as I breathe heavily, frozen in place for a moment as he smiles at me. The sight shocks me back to reality, and I promptly glance down, taking in his classic black tuxedo. The look is seemingly proper, yet as he reaches his arm out to steady me, I take note of the dash of ink on his wrist that pokes out from under his sleeve, a sure sign that everything is not quite as it seems. Wow.

'I'm fine,' I reply, plastering a smile over my face.

His gaze darkens slightly at my response, and I gulp slightly. Does he know I don't belong here? Did I say something wrong?

'You should be more careful,' he says in a light tone, and my brows furrow.

'As I said, I'm fine,' I repeat, my voice surprisingly steady. He nods, stepping back and grinning.

'My apologies.' The way he's observing me has me stuck in place, unable to look away for some damn reason. His eyes are analysing mine, almost making me feel like he's interested in being here. In this space. With me.

The flecks of darker green in his eyes are mesmerising, sucking me in, like I belong.

Which I don't.

'Please excuse me,' I finally say, tearing my eyes from his. He doesn't flinch, his gaze still concentrated on me.

Already a mess, I completely disregard the correct way to act or leave a room, instead thrusting my full glass of alcohol into his hands. Stepping around him, I teeter in those stupid black heels, the opposite of graceful as I head for a door, any door, to get me away from here. I desperately need a breather. Already.

I've spoken to one person tonight, and I already feel out of my depth, uncertain whether I'm the right girl for this job. But she chose me, and I happily accepted. I only have myself to blame.

Stepping into the vast white corridor, I glance around, thankfully finding it almost empty. The space doesn't help at all. I need fresh air; I feel as though my chest is constricting, as if I'm suffocating inside the false appearance I'm sporting.

Setting my eyes on the end of the hallway, I head towards it, reaching the glass doors at the end in record time. I roughly push on the handle, the doors flying open before I eagerly welcome the cold air that rushes over me. Bliss.

I walk onto the large stone balcony, immediately leaning on the wall and savouring the harsh surface underneath my hands as I take a deep breath. I have no desire to go back inside, preferring to spend my evening out here – obligation be damned.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I look up and fixate on the sky. The darkness is ominous, not something I'd ever usually see in the middle of London. Squinting, I manage to make out a few stars, unable to stop myself from smiling at the sight. It's hard to spot them in the capital, streetlights polluting the pure sky. Plus, in England it's almost always cloudy.

The small glitterings that I can see tonight have me unwilling to look away, my body not even comprehending the cold anymore as I stare at the magical picture.

'You ran away from me to come out here?'