The Drink Meant for Her
1128 Words
The event had finally come alive. People from every corner of Valeris started trooping into the grand hall, and outside, expensive luxury cars pulled up one after another, each one shinier than the last.
Elyra moved straight into welcome mode, her smile radiant as she greeted the first wave of guests. The other ushers moved just as fast, guiding people to their tables, some of them still trying not to look too starstruck by the wealth walking past them.
A sleek black Lamborghini rolled to a stop outside, drawing quiet stares from everyone nearby. It was Geoffrey Solone, owner of Solone Global International and one of Kael Draven's biggest rivals in the business world. He sat comfortably at number two on the list of Valeris's five richest men, and he wore that position like a crown.
Elyra spotted him right away and moved to usher him inside. Women were already fawning over him the moment he stepped through the doors, while politicians and investors crowded close, eager to slide business talk into casual conversation.
Everyone in the hall looked like they belonged on a magazine cover, dressed in silk and diamonds, drenched in expensive cologne and perfume. It was the kind of crowd that made an ordinary person feel small just standing near them.
Then the doors opened again, and the entire room seemed to shift.
Yselle Vaudrin walked in with her parents on either side of her, moving like she already owned every inch of the floor beneath her heels. Heads turned instantly. Conversations paused mid sentence.
She wore a deep emerald gown that clung to her curves in all the right places, her hair pulled back just enough to show off diamond earrings that probably cost more than Elyra's entire apartment building.
"Miss Vaudrin is beautiful," one guest whispered to another near the bar.
"Beauty isn't the reason everyone's watching her," the second guest replied, lowering her voice.
"Then what is?"
"The entire business world believes she's going to become Mrs. Draven one day."
Elyra caught the tail end of that conversation and felt something tighten in her chest that she didn't have time to think about. She shook it off quickly and went back to work, there wasn't room for distractions tonight.
"Elyra, come here for a second." Maureen, the hotel's manager, waved her over near the side entrance, her expression unusually soft for someone who was normally all business.
"Yes, Maureen?" Elyra wiped her palms on her gown quickly and walked over.
"I've been watching you all night, and I have to say, I'm impressed." Maureen crossed her arms and gave her a small, genuine smile. "If tonight ends without a single complaint, I'm putting your name forward for Senior Executive Events Director. I mean it."
Elyra's breath caught in her throat. "Maureen, are you serious? That's... that's everything I've been working for."
"I know it is, which is why I'm telling you now, so you have a reason to push through these last few hours." Maureen squeezed her arm once before turning back toward the crowd. "Don't mess it up."
"I won't, I promise."
A few feet away, Priya had caught every word of that conversation, and her jaw tightened until it hurt. Of course it's her, she thought bitterly, watching Elyra practically glow from the praise. It's always Elyra.
By the time another hour had passed, Elyra's feet were aching inside her heels and her throat felt dry from all the talking and smiling. She grabbed a glass of water from a passing tray and drank half of it in one go, telling herself she just needed a short break before the night ended.
Then, without warning, the room around her started to blur.
The lights above the ballroom suddenly felt too bright, almost stinging her eyes. The music, which had sounded perfectly fine all night, now pounded in her ears like it was coming from inside her own skull. Her heart started racing for no reason she could explain.
"Maybe I'm just tired," she whispered to herself, pressing two fingers against her temple. "I barely slept this week, that's all this is."
Near the entrance, another wave of tension rippled through the staff, and everyone straightened at once. Security tightened around the main doors, murmurs passing quickly from one person to the next.
"He's here," someone whispered.
The doors opened, and Kael Draven walked in.
He wore a dark blue tuxedo that fit him like it had been made specifically for his body, which it probably had. The top two buttons of his shirt were left undone, just enough to hint at the discipline it took to maintain a body like that. When he walked, he didn't rush, he didn't have to. Every head in the room turned anyway, both men and women, some more obvious about staring than others.
Elyra caught sight of him from across the hall and felt her stomach do something strange and unfamiliar. What is so special about him, she wondered, though some small, annoying part of her brain admitted he looked exactly as striking as everyone claimed.
She pinched the inside of her wrist lightly. I love Henry, she reminded herself. I have no business staring at another man like this.
She turned away and forced herself back to work, but the dizziness from earlier hadn't gone anywhere. If anything, it was getting worse.
Her vision blurred at the edges, doubling for a second before snapping back. Her breathing turned shallow, and when a waiter asked her a simple question about table arrangements, she gave him an answer that made absolutely no sense.
"Sorry, that's not right, ignore what I just said," she muttered, pressing her palm against her forehead.
By the time the event was finally winding down, Elyra could barely keep herself upright. She decided it was time to call it a night and head home before anyone noticed how badly she was struggling.
She walked quietly toward the elevators near the executive hallway, her mind too foggy to register the sign clearly marked staff and executives only. The regular guest elevator was just a few steps further down, but her legs carried her toward the wrong one entirely.
The security guard who usually stood watch there had stepped away, distracted by something on his radio.
The doors slid open in front of her, smooth and silent.
Elyra stepped inside without a second thought and pressed the only button glowing on the panel.
The doors began to close just as the guard turned back toward his post. His eyes went wide with panic.
"Wait, that's not–" He sprinted forward, but the doors had already sealed shut.
The numbers above the elevator started climbing steadily. Fifteen. Twenty two. Thirty one. Forty.
PENTHOUSE
- Writer
