UNDER THE GLASS TOWERS❤️

The city glittered beneath Elena Marquez like a spilled box of diamonds, each one reflecting the sky-high arrogance of the Glass Towers. From the rooftop restaurant where she worked, the world felt untouchable — at least for everyone except her. Elena tightened her apron, tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and stepped back onto the floor of Skyline, the most exclusive dining spot in the entire tower complex. Velvet chairs, gold-trimmed bar, crystal chandeliers — she could never imagine eating here, let alone belonging here. But working here? That she needed. “Table twelve wants another round of champagne,” her manager, Kara, said as she swept past. “And try to smile, Elena. These people pay for that.” Elena bit back a reply — something along the lines of they can buy their own personalities while they’re at it — and forced her expression into what she hoped looked pleasant and not strained. Another shift. Another ten hours. Another night pretending she fit into a world built for people who had never had to choose between rent and groceries. At table twelve, a group of investment executives in tailored suits laughed too loudly at jokes that weren’t funny. Elena refilled their glasses, disappearing into the background the way she’d been trained. Eyes down, posture perfect, voice soft but not timid. A balancing act between invisible and attentive. The elevator chimed. She glanced over without thinking — and froze. A man stepped out who didn’t look like he belonged in the restaurant. No, he looked like he owned it. Tall, effortlessly elegant in a charcoal suit, dark hair perfectly in place. The kind of man who didn’t need to announce his wealth; it walked with him. Adrian Vale. She had seen his face before — tabloids, news articles, investor magazines on breakroom tables. Heir to Vale Industries. The prince of the Glass Towers. Untouchable. Unreachable. A walking symbol of everything she didn’t trust about the wealthy. And he was walking straight toward her section. Of course he was. “Great,” Elena muttered under her breath. “Just great.” She hurried to clear a table before he reached it. But in her rush, her foot caught on the edge of a chair — and the champagne bottle tipped forward just enough for icy gold liquid to splash across the sleeve of Adrian Vale’s perfectly tailored suit jacket. Time stopped. Her heart slammed into her ribs. The executives at table twelve gasped. Kara stiffened across the room. Adrian looked down at his soaked sleeve… then up at her. His eyes were a cool blue-gray, sharp and assessing. Elena lifted her chin, bracing for the anger, the arrogance, the entitlement. Instead, he smiled. A small, genuine smile that threw her completely off balance. “That,” he said lightly, “is the most refreshing thing that’s happened to me all day.” Elena blinked. “…I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean—” “No harm done,” he cut in, still smiling. “Though now I’ll have to sit through dinner smelling like champagne. Could be worse.” Who talked like that? Who reacted like that? Certainly not the usual clientele. “Let me get you a napkin, Mr. Vale,” she managed, heat creeping up her neck. “Only if you promise to stop calling me ‘sir,’” he said. “Makes me feel older than I am.” She hesitated. “I’m working. I kind of have to.” “Then I’ll have to come back when you’re not working,” he said smoothly. Elena nearly dropped the napkin that time. He moved past her to meet his waiting party, offering her a polite nod before taking a seat — as though nothing unusual had happened. But Elena knew better. Men like Adrian Vale didn’t notice women like her. They didn’t smile at them. They definitely didn’t joke with them. And yet, sitting there under the glow of the skyline, his gaze flicked back to her once… twice… more than once by accident. Elena swallowed hard, suddenly aware of a strange flutter in her chest. This was not good. Not good at all. Because the Glass Towers were no place for a woman like her to be noticed by a man like Adrian Vale. And she had a sinking feeling today was just the beginning.