CHAPTER TWO
604 Words
##CHAPTER TWO##
Three hours later, Elena stood outside kings and Beauty’s restaurant. one of the most expensive restaurant in the city questioning every life decision that led her here.
She looked down at her self feeling uncomfortable at the red strapless dress at thigh length exactly under her butt combined with a knee length net socks and a pair of heels Bianca forced her to wear reminding her that she was on a mission.
She brought out a mirror from her purse and took a glance at her dyed blonde-fake colored hair and too much jewelrys apparently for the mission.
Elena checked the text Bianca had sent.
**Table 14. 8 PM. His name is Damian. Good luck surviving.**
Surviving?
That sounded encouraging.
She walked inside before she could lose courage.The hostess immediately straightened, bowed slightly and said
“Miss Sinclair?”
Elena forced a smile.
“Unfortunately.”
The hostess laughed nervously and led her through the restaurant.
The restaurant itself practically screamed wealth.Crystal lights, Men in suits that looked aggressively expensive.Every table looked painfully sophisticated Elena already hated this but somehow she continued walking
Table 14.
Sorry I’m late, Elena said coettishly while sitting across and suddenly understood why Bianca panicked
The man sitting there looked less like a date and more like a warning sign with a red label saying “DO NOT APPROACH.”
The private lounge of the Restaurant was drowned in gold light and quiet jazz, the kind of place where billionaires discussed empires over crystal glasses while the rest of the city slept outside.
Elena felt underdressed the moment she stepped inside.
Men in tailored tuxedos moved through the room with practiced arrogance, while women dripping in diamonds laughed softly behind champagne glasses. The air smelled like expensive perfume, whiskey, and money.
And then she saw him.
He sat alone near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan, one hand resting lazily against a glass of whiskey.
Dark tailored suit.
Not ordinary black—
the kind of deep charcoal fabric that looked almost silver beneath the dim lighting. It fit his body perfectly, sculpting every inch of him with sinful precision, like it had been sewn directly onto his skin by someone who understood luxury too well.
The suit jacket stretched across broad shoulders capable of carrying both power and violence with equal ease.
Everything about him looked expensive.
Controlled.
Untouchable.
His posture alone commanded the room without effort.
One arm rested against the leather chair casually, revealing the sleek silver watch wrapped around his wrist—a watch probably worth more than Elena’s yearly salary.
Power radiated from him so intensely that nearby conversations seemed quieter around his table.
“Mr. Cross, your guest has arrived.”
Cross.. Elena whispered in shock. Even a two year old baby would recognize this name.
Cross Holdings global empire.The largest company in country A with dealings in different parts of the world and the also the wealthiest of the upper class socialite.
The hostess stopped beside him.
Damien looked up. His gaze landed on Elena.And held.For one strange second, neither of them spoke.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Like something about her confused him.
Then he stood up lazily shaking her hands and introduced himself
Damian cross. Ceo of cross global enterprises, 27 years of age, just got back from country F and I’ll be living here permanently.
He looked at her with his Cold gray eyes watching her over the rim of his whiskey Which somehow made him even more intimidating because dear God the man was tall.
“Elena,” she blurted automatically before remembering she was supposed to be Bianca.
- Writer
