The Accidental Fiancèe

She hadn’t expected the tray to weigh this much—her hands were aching. Sophia held her grip as she was in between the sea of shining gowns and suits sewn to perfection, trying to balance six wine bottles that cost more than her salary. Her black and white uniform felt like protection from the expensive surroundings. However, it did little to shield her from the stares. She was just another face in the crowd, a server in a rented uniform, but still she felt the full force of their judgment. Don’t think about it. Focus on the job. In five more hours, you can collect your pay. The thought of her younger brother, Oliver, waiting at the house with leftover noodles for dinner kept her pushing. The rent payment deadline was due in seven days. His school fees were already late. One more failure to pay his expenses, and the school would expel him. Sophia had ensured that she would never let that happen. Even if it meant working three back-to-back jobs, she didn’t mind overworking herself. As she entered the big ballroom, her worn-out shoes pushed against the polished stone floor. Mighty chandeliers pushing light across the crowd, the crystals leaving a trail of rainbows like dust on the clean surfaces. Waiters in their neat uniforms moved with refined elegance, but Sophia struck out-new and nervous as hell, trying so hard not to make a blunder. Music from the live orchestra filled the air, elegant and soft in a hushed tone over the talks of the city elite. She had never encountered so much wealth just in one room before. Expensive jewelry dripped from the woman’s wrist and ears. The men’s cufflinks alone are enough to sort her rent for a whole year. And then the atmosphere grew heavy. A wave of whispers rushed through the crowd, moving Sophia's eyes toward the entrance. He had arrived. Henry Blackwood. She’d heard the name from some of her coworkers in the break room, which always comes with envy or awe. Billionaire hotel tycoon. Heir to the Blackwood fortune. Relentless in business. Apathetic to love. Every top story in the city portrayed him as the city’s most charming and untouchable bachelor. And now he was here, making his grand entry into the gala with the kind of presence that seemed to make everyone in the room hold their breath. Sophia's breath slipped from her lips. He was really tall, taller than she had expected, broad-shouldered in a nice clean suit, which was more than just clothing a declaration of his power, with a face that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine—a well-defined jawline, Steel gray eyes, and a faint smile curled his lips. Every minute showed control, from the way he had his suit buttoned to the way people stepped aside to let him pass. She turned her eyes away. Men like him had no business with a girl like her. Her focus went back to her tray as a guest signaled for her. Sophia moved carefully through the crowd, trying to ignore the quiet pulse of the music and the way her shoes crimped her feet. She adjusted her grip, controlling the wine glasses. Almost there—just one more step— And then she felt someone bump her from behind. The tray fell. Champagne splashed. Her heart seized from the shock as she clumsily walked forward—straight into a wall of expensive fine wool. The glasses dropped wildly, one tumbling over the edge, the golden liquid soaked across the chest of the man she’d run into. A moment of disbelief echoed around her. Sophia’s stomach sank. She looked up slowly—too slowly—into those steel gray eyes. Henry Blackwood himself. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Her cheeks hurt. “I’m so, so deeply sorry—“ His eyes went down to the stain spreading across his expensive thousand-dollar suit, then looked up to her humiliated face. His voice, when it came, was low and cutting. “Is it in your habit of attacking men with champagne,” he sneered, “or is tonight a little special for you?” Heat burned through Sophia’s cheeks. She managed to put herself together, holding on to the tray tighter. “It was an accident I’m so sorry. Someone bumped me.” She hadn’t expected the tray to weigh this much—her hands were aching. Sophia held her grip as she was in between the sea of shining gowns and suits sewn to perfection, trying to balance six wine bottles that cost more than her salary. Her black and white uniform felt like protection from the expensive surroundings. However, it did little to shield her from the stares. She was just another face in the crowd, a server in a rented uniform, but still she felt the full force of their judgment. Don’t think about it. Focus on the job. In five more hours, you can collect your pay. The thought of her younger brother, Oliver, waiting at the house with leftover noodles for dinner kept her pushing. The rent payment deadline was due in seven days. His school fees were already late. One more failure to pay his expenses, and the school would expel him. Sophia had ensured that she would never let that happen. Even if it meant working three back-to-back jobs, she didn’t mind overworking herself. As she entered the big ballroom, her worn-out shoes pushed against the polished stone floor. Mighty chandeliers pushing light across the crowd, the crystals leaving a trail of rainbows like dust on the clean surfaces. Waiters in their neat uniforms moved with refined elegance, but Sophia struck out—new and nervous as hell, trying so hard not to make a blunder. Music from the live orchestra filled the air, elegant and soft in a hushed tone over the talks of the city elite. She had never encountered so much wealth just in one room before. Expensive jewelry dripped from the woman’s wrist and ears. The men’s cufflinks alone are enough to sort her rent for a whole year. And then the atmosphere grew heavy. A wave of whispers rushed through the crowd, moving Sophia's eyes toward the entrance. He had arrived. Henry Blackwood. She’d heard the name from some of her coworkers in the break room, which always comes with envy or awe. Billionaire hotel tycoon. Heir to the Blackwood fortune. Relentless in business. Apathetic to love. Every top story in the city portrayed him as the city’s most charming and untouchable bachelor. And now he was here, making his grand entry into the gala with the kind of presence that seemed to make everyone in the room hold their breath. Sophia's breath slipped from her lips. He was really tall, taller than she had expected, broad-shouldered in a nice clean suit, which was more than just clothing, a declaration of his power, with a face that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine—a well-defined jawline, steel gray eyes, and a faint smile curled his lips. Every minute showed control, from the way he had his suit buttoned to the way people stepped aside to let him pass. She turned her eyes away. Men like him had no business with a girl like her. Her focus went back to her tray as a guest signaled for her. Sophia moved carefully through the crowd, trying to ignore the quiet pulse of the music and the way her shoes crimped her feet. She adjusted her grip, controlling the wine glasses. Almost there—just one more step— And then she felt someone bump her from behind. The tray fell. Champagne splashed. Her heart seized from the shock as she clumsily walked forward—straight into a wall of expensive fine wool. The glasses dropped wildly, one tumbling over the edge, the golden liquid soaked across the chest of the man she’d run into. A moment of disbelief echoed around her. Sophia’s stomach sank. She looked up slowly—too slowly—into those steel gray eyes. Henry Blackwood himself. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Her cheeks hurt. “I’m so, so deeply sorry—“ His eyes went down to the stain spreading across his expensive thousand-dollar suit, then looked up to her humiliated face. His voice, when it came, was low and cutting. “Is it in your habit of attacking men with champagne,” he sneered, “or is tonight a little special for you?” Heat burned through Sophia’s cheeks. She managed to put herself together, holding on to the tray tighter. “It was an accident I’m so sorry. Someone bumped me.”