Forbidden Night, Forever Love

Defeat Elena's POV Behind me, the glass door slams. I move quickly through the large building lobby, my heels clicking on the shiny floor. I don't care that people in suits are staring at me. My hands shake and my face feels hot. I press the lift button. There is a soft sound as the silver doors open. I enter and push the ground floor button. My stomach aches as the lift descends. I keep thinking about what Mr. Johnson said. "We apologise, Elena. Instead, we chose to work with Kane Industries. They made a better offer. Better. They made a better offer. I lean against the chilly lift wall and close my eyes. Three months of labour. Late nights in my tiny office for three months. I dreamed about this big contract that would save my company for three months. Lost. The doors open and the lift stops. I stroll through the opulent lobby, which has marble floors and tall plants. The security officer gives me a nod. My face doesn't cooperate when I try to smile. Rain from Seattle falls on my head outside. I'm without an umbrella. As the water runs down my face, it combines with a warm, salty substance. I'm in tears. In my purse, my phone buzzes. I use wet fingers to pull it out. "How was the meeting, Elena?" Sofia sounds excited and joyful in her voice. I am unable to speak. It will all become real if I utter the words aloud. "Elena? Are you present? "We lost." I speak in a whisper. "The contract was awarded to Kane Industries." Sofia remains silent for a while. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm very sorry. "I must leave." "Elena, hold on—" I put my phone away after hanging up. It's raining more heavily now. I stay put even though my business suit is getting wet. People with raincoats and umbrellas stroll past me. There is somewhere for everyone to go. Everybody but me. Kane Enterprises. My chest tightens with rage at that name. They have been accepting contracts that belong to me for the past two years. They always jump in with their opulent offices and limitless funds whenever I approach something significant. Back at the office, I consider my fifty employees. decent folks who put in a lot of effort and have faith in our mission. Like Jamie, who recently purchased his first home. Additionally, Mrs. Chen is saving money for her daughter's wedding. How can I let them know that we might not survive the next six months? My feet begin to move. I can't stand still any longer, but I'm not sure where I'm heading. My white shirt sticks to my skin as the rain seeps through my jacket. My face is surrounded by damp strands of hair. I take long walks. past cheerful coffee shops. past shops with warm windows and bright lights. Former couples holding hands beneath communal umbrellas. I pause in front of a tall hotel. The Olympic Games at Fairmont. With ornate gold letters and uniformed men opening doors for the wealthy, it appears antiquated and costly. This is unlike any place I've ever been inside. When I was a child, my family couldn't afford hotels. We either stayed with family or slept in the car when we travelled. However, money isn't important to me today. I must leave the rain. I must find a quiet place to sit and consider my next course of action. The heavy glass door is opened for me by the man in the uniform. "Good evening, miss." I give a nod and enter. I'm in awe of the lobby. Everything is crystal, marble, and gold. On gleaming tables are enormous bouquets of flowers. Individuals who wear high-end clothing speak softly. I glance down at my dripping hair and damp business suit. This isn't where I belong. However, my feet continue to move. Past the check-in desk, where guests are greeted by attractive women wearing flawless makeup. past an old painting-lined hallway. towards a sign that reads "Georgian Lounge." Compared to the lobby, the lounge is darker. From concealed speakers, soft music is played. The room is filled with small tables and leather chairs. There are a few people sitting around, either looking at their phones or having quiet conversations. I pick a table in the corner, away from other people. The chair's leather is warm and plush. I immerse myself in it and briefly close my eyes. "May I get you a drink?" I open my eyes. Beside my table is a waiter wearing a black vest. He has good eyes and is young—perhaps my age. "I..." I glance at the other visitors. Everybody has expensive beverages in crystal glasses. "What do patrons typically order here?" He grinned. "First time at the Olympic Games?" My cheeks flush as I nod. "How about a glass of wine? After being outside in the rain, something to keep you warm." "That sounds good." "White or red?" I'm not very knowledgeable about wine. "Please, red." I glance around the room once more as he leaves. One drink here probably costs more than my weekly lunch expenditures. I don't care, though. Allow me to enjoy one pleasant thing today. One lovely moment before I return home and try to figure out how to keep my business afloat. My wine is served by the waiter in a glass that is so thin I'm worried it will shatter in my hands. The wine has a smooth, rich flavour. There's nothing like the cheap bottles Sofia and I share during movie nights. I pull out my phone and check my emails. 17 fresh messages. Most likely, enquiries concerning the Johnson contract. I placed the phone on the table, face down. The wine warms me up. My shoulders feel more relaxed because of the soft music and low lighting. I can breathe without my chest feeling constricted for the first time in the day. My parents come to mind. I was told to keep fighting by Papa. "We didn't come to this country to give up when things get tough, Mija." Every event has a purpose, according to Mama, who would prepare her special soup for me. They might be correct. Losing this contract could be a sign of better things to come. Now the wine glass is half empty. I'm not hungry, but I should probably eat something. All I want to do is sit in this lovely room and act as though nothing is wrong with my life. At the bar, someone chuckles. I look up when I hear a warm, deep sound. At the far end of the bar, a lone man sits. tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-haired. He has his sleeves rolled up and his white shirt wrinkled. Like me, he appears exhausted. The man laughs once more when the barman says something. However, I can see that the laugh does not reach his eyes even from this distance. He looks sad, like he's carrying something heavy. What brought him here tonight, I wonder? What caused him to drink alone while sitting in a pricey hotel bar? We look at each other across the room as he turns his head. I catch my breath in my throat. His eyes are a vivid blue, even in the low light. They stare directly into my eyes as if he can read my mind. It feels like time is slowing down. The gentle music ends. The other individuals in the room vanish. He gets off the bar stool. I didn't realise how tall he was. He moves in the direction of my table. I can hear my heart pounding so loudly over the music. How am I doing?