Chapter 1
862 Words
“Don’t touch it” I say, already moving.
Eve freezes mid-reach, fingers hovering under the lowest tray as the stemware above gives her a thin, dangerous ring, “I didn't touch it.”
One glass tilts, another answers it, and boom, the entire tower of the tasting table shivers and almost collapses… not completely, just enough that the champagne tower trembles like it's thinking about ending my career.
“You were about to.”
I slide between her and the table, shoulder catching the edge before gravity decides our fate. My heels kick the uneven leg into place while my hand presses flat against cool glass.
The ringing softens, then stops, and in that moment, I could have sworn nobody was breathing…
The caterer let out a small shaky laugh that sounded like she was praying, “We’re good?”
I keep my palm there for another second, “Now, we are.”
I glanced briefly at Eve, who looked mortified. Quickly catching my eyes, she responded, “I was only trying to stabilize the environment.”
“Emotionally,you mean?” I rolled my eyes as I folded a napkin.
I slid it under the table’s short leg and it settled into silence.
Around us, the ballroom hum resumes, cutleries realigning with soft clicks, musicians testing notes that hover just under conversation level.
“Ten minutes to door” Eve notified me.
“You said five earlier”, I said scrunching my forehead.
“Yeah, so we'd all move faster” She replied as her lips curved upwards.
I shook my head, but fair.
I straighten, scanning the hall automatically.
Candles were centered and escort cards squared…
Just then, my eyes met that of the bride's mother, who had been pretending she wasn't watching me fix things she didn't notice were wrong.
I smiled briefly and nodded at her… my phone vibrates inside my blazer, and Eve pulls it out before I can stop her.
“Unknown number”
“Put it on speaker”
She answers, “Cruz Events”
A pause stretches long enough that she glances at me.
Then a man's voice, calm and certain, “I was told I'd reach Arielle Cruz directly.”
“She’s with a client” Eve replies smoothly. “I can -”
I take the phone. “This is Arielle.”
There was silence again but this time, I could feel him smiling on the other line.
“I have a contract for you,” he says. “You’ll want to read it tonight.”
“I don't review proposals during events, only during business hours.”
“You’ll make an exception. You won't even want to wait.”
I raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn't see me.
I glance at the entrance as guests spill in with colognes and expectations I am paid to meet.
“Send it through the agency” I say, already stepping towards the hostess.
“It’s already in your inbox.”
I stop walking.
I checked my email less than 10 minutes ago.
“Who is this?”
“You’ll know when you open it.” He lets out a breath and disconnects the line.
Eve stares at me amused, “That was either extremely rich or extremely serial killer.”
“Both often overlap.”
I refresh my mail as I move and there, a new message at the top. No logo, no assistant copied, just a document and one line.
Exclusive coordination required.
I open it while walking.
Location: Private island.
Duration: 1 Month
Unlimited budget.
Eve leans closer. “We are absolutely saying yes.”
“Not yet.”
A server brushes past me with a tray. I barely shift aside, eyes moving down the page.
Halfway through, my steps slow… The ballroom noise keeps going without me.
Because the clause is precise.
All citrus scents must be excluded from enclosed spaces.
The air feels thinner…
Eve touches my arm. “What?”
I angle the screen away from her without thinking.
“Nothing,” I say, already scrolling back to the top, reading the sender again even though it doesn’t help. No company header, no assistant copied…just a direct address that shouldn’t exist.
“Rich nothing or weird nothing?” she asks.
My phone vibrates before I answer.
Another email, with no subject line.
The message loads slowly, like the connection is deciding whether to cooperate.
You still hate orange blossoms.
My hand stills.
Eve watches my face. “Okay that one definitely wasn’t nothing.”
I lock the screen.
“I didn’t give this address to the agency,” I say, more to myself than to her.
“Maybe they forwarded -”
“No.”
Because there is only one person who ever noticed that detail, and I never wrote it down anywhere.
I slide the phone back into my pocket.
“Are we taking the job?” Eve asks.
I look out at the guests filling the room, at the symmetry I can control, at the life that runs because I keep it ordered.
“Yes,” I hear myself say.
And immediately wish I hadn’t.
- Writer
