THE EVENT
1091 Words
I’d been staring at my screen all morning. My fingers just hovered over the keyboard, not doing anything. Emails were piling up, messages popping up, and I still hadn’t typed a single word. I just sat there, pretending to work while my head kept drifting back to last night.
To him.
To what we did.
I shouldn’t have gone with him. I knew that. It was wild, dumb, and... something else I couldn’t explain. I kept remembering his hands, his voice, even how he left without saying much. It played over and over in my head.
But the worst part? He didn’t even look at me this morning.
He walked by with two men in suits, talking about some deal. I sat at my desk, feeling like I could barely breathe. Like I’d done something wrong. Something everyone could see.
But he didn’t even glance my way. Not once. Not even a small look. And I don’t know why that bothered me so much.
My phone buzzed next to me. It was the same message from earlier this morning.
Aiden: "Dinner tonight. Don’t be late."
I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to. It just felt off. Everything felt off. We hadn’t even talked yesterday, and now he’s acting like nothing happened?
I put my phone face down.
"You’re literally just staring at nothing," Lara said, sliding into the seat beside me. She was sipping iced coffee and looked way too awake. "Please don’t tell me you forgot about the gala tonight."
I blinked. "What gala?"
She looked shocked. "The Devereux Gala? Amira! Everyone’s been talking about it. The venue, the guest list, the fancy glass ceiling thing?"
"I didn’t get invited."
"No one on our level does. You just show up. I got a plus-one from this boring junior exec. He’s tall. I can work with that."
I smiled a little.
"You should come," she said, nudging me. "Even if it’s just to help or stand around and stare. I heard the big man himself is showing up."
Hearing his name made my stomach turn.
"I’ll think about it," I said. I already knew I wouldn’t go.
The rest of the day crawled by. I had half a granola bar for lunch and kept ignoring my phone. Every time someone walked by, I thought maybe it’d be him. But it wasn’t.
Then someone from HR showed up at my desk.
"Amira Ross? You’ve been added to the staff list for tonight’s gala. Go to Room 12C now."
I blinked. "What? I wasn’t on the list."
"Upper management added you. You’re helping with guest coordination."
She left before I could ask anything else.
I just sat there for a sec, confused. Upper management? Could that mean... him? Did he ask for me?
I tried not to read into it, but I was already grabbing my bag.
Room 12C looked like a fashion closet exploded. Dresses, shoes, boxes everywhere. A girl handed me a dress in a clear bag.
"You’re working in the ballroom. You gotta blend in with the guests."
I took it without arguing. It was black satin, long slit, kinda fancy. Way too nice for someone like me.
I went into the bathroom to try it on. It fit perfectly. Like it was made for me.
I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. I looked... older. Like someone who belonged in that room.
And that scared me.
---
The venue was insane. Crystal chandeliers, big windows, shiny floors, and cameras everywhere. Everyone looked so rich. Like they didn’t have to try.
I followed the coordinator and stood near the ballroom entrance. My job was to guide guests and help anyone who looked lost. Seemed easy enough.
Then I saw him.
Mikhail Devereux.
He was in the middle of the room, drink in hand, suit fitting him like a dream. He wasn’t doing anything special, but somehow he just looked like he owned the place.
He was surrounded by people laughing at something. I froze. He didn’t see me. I wasn’t even sure I wanted him to.
But then, like he felt it, he turned.
Our eyes met. Just for a second.
Then I looked away.
---
Later that night, when dinner ended and music started playing, the tables got pushed back and couples began dancing. The whole vibe shifted.
I stayed in a corner, holding a champagne glass I didn’t even sip.
"You’re not working anymore," a voice said behind me.
I turned. It was him.
Mikhail.
He stood there, hands in his pockets, looking like he didn’t care about anything—but his eyes said different.
"I didn’t ask for you to be here," he said.
I nodded. "Okay."
"But I didn’t mind seeing you either."
I raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t seem like you noticed me earlier."
He tilted his head. "I notice everything. Especially you."
He held out his hand.
"Dance with me."
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to. But because it felt like once I did, things would shift.
But I gave him my hand anyway.
His fingers curled around mine. Warm. Steady.
He pulled me into the middle of the floor. The music slowed. It was soft and floaty, like a dream.
His hand rested at my waist. Not too close, not too far. Just enough.
"Do you regret it?" I asked.
He didn’t answer right away. Then he said, "I don’t know what I regret yet."
We danced quietly. My heart was loud, but everything else was calm.
Then I noticed people watching.
Not just glancing. Full-on watching.
Some were whispering. Some looked shocked. I saw phones. Cameras. Even Lara, across the room, staring like she’d seen a ghost.
He didn’t pull away. And neither did I.
---
Later that night, after I got home and peeled off the dress, I was just about to climb into bed when my phone lit up.
First, it rang.
Aiden was calling.
I let it ring out.
Then again. And again.
I turned the ringer off.
A minute later, a message came in.
Aiden: "Seriously? You couldn’t text me back all day? I waited. And then I see your name getting whispered all over? What’s going on, Amira?"
I didn’t reply.
Then another notification popped up.
Unknown Number: "You’re not very good at disappearing."
I froze.
Another buzz.
Unknown Number: "You left before I could say thank you. For the dance."
My heart was beating fast now.
Then one more.
Unknown Number: "Next time, don’t wear that dress unless you’re trying to start something."
- Writer
