A Thrilling Surprise
1175 Words
Olivia woke with her head pounding, the weight of her own breath muffled by the pillows that still surrounded her. The light of day pierced through the curtains, searing her eyes with a sharp, unforgiving pain. The hangover was brutal, and the flashes of the night before flickered in and out of her mind, a confusing haze of fragmented moments. But there was one thing that stood out with painful clarity: the encounter with the mysterious guy.
The room around her reeked of poor decisions, alcohol, and smoke. Clothes were scattered across the floor, empty bottles lay discarded on the nightstand, and faint traces of something more illicit lingered in the air. Olivia breathed in sharply, regretting it immediately. The chaos of the room mirrored the state of her mind, and for a moment, she didn’t know where to start. Every inch of the space felt like a reminder of everything she wanted to forget.
With a heavy sigh, she rolled over in bed, her feet grazing the cold floor. She struggled to sit up, trying to ignore the dizziness that threatened to knock her down. The reflection in the mirror was merciless, disheveled hair, smudged makeup, a vacant expression. A deep, gnawing frustration tugged at her chest, but something else flickered beneath it... a spark. Something restless. But she didn’t have the time or energy to name it.
She grabbed the bottle of painkillers from her nightstand, dry-swallowed a few, and hoped relief would come soon. While she waited, she picked up her phone. The screen lit up with a flood of notifications. Her i********: was filled with pictures from the night before, the kind that showed just how far things had spiraled. The messy hair, blurred smiles, too-bright lights, and smeared eyeliner, all perfectly curated to look carefree, but reeking of decadence. The photos showed the true descent of the night, her smile forced, her eyes hollow. Her pulse quickened as she scrolled and stopped at a message.
It was from Bailey:
Brunch at The Ivy? You in? I need a little escape after last night.
The casual tone made her stomach twist. Olivia was done with the endless cycle, paparazzi, fake smiles, the suffocating routine of pretending everything was fine. The idea of brunch made her feel nauseous. Detached.
She locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. Her gaze landed on her screensaver, a photo of her and her father from years ago. The sight of it knocked the breath out of her. A moment frozen in time. A connection she hadn’t felt in years.
She stared at the photo, her chest tightening. Her father’s arm was around her, a rare smile on his face. She looked so young. So untouched. That version of her didn’t know what it meant to wake up in a room like this. That girl still had hope in her eyes. Her thumb brushed over the screen unconsciously, as if she could reach into the image and pull something real out of it.
Her father. The man who’d given her structure, expectations, discipline. But he’d also given her silence. Long stretches of it. Their relationship existed in clipped texts and tense glances, not warmth. He hadn’t been cruel, not exactly, just... cold. Distant. Strategic. He showed up when it mattered for appearances, but never when she truly needed him. Maybe that was worse. Maybe it would’ve been easier if he’d just been a bad man. Instead, he’d been the one who smiled for cameras and withheld affection when no one was looking. And she hated how even that half-love still hurt to crave.
The loneliness clawed at her again. She felt completely alone. The noise and bodies from the night before had only intensified the void. Even the guy, whoever the hell he was, had vanished like everyone else. Everything felt disposable. Including her.
She stared at the screen again. Call? No. She couldn’t bring herself to. She wouldn’t grovel. She wouldn’t chase after someone who only knew how to love her in public.
But seeing him... face to face... maybe that would finally knock something loose. Maybe it would remind him she wasn’t a name on his calendar. Maybe it would remind her she still existed. She’d confront him in his domain, where he couldn’t hide behind assistants or meetings. She needed to see his reaction. His face. That alone might give her more answers than another year of silence ever would.
She drew her knees to her chest and let her head rest against them for a beat. Her hair fell around her face like a curtain. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel like performing. There was no one here to impress. Just her. And that photo.
She didn’t want brunch. She didn’t want followers or fake smiles. She wanted one real moment. Just one.
---
Olivia walked into the office like she owned it. Her boots hit the marble floor with steady, unapologetic steps. Hair messy, no makeup, just a loose white shirt clinging to her curves and tight jeans hugging her hips. Simple, but striking.
Heads turned. Everyone in reception froze. It wasn’t just because she was the boss’s daughter. It was the raw, defiant aura she dragged with her... even if she was a mess inside. The contrast between the heat of the street and the crisp air conditioning inside prickled against her skin. The scent of overbrewed coffee lingered in the corridor. Every heel click echoed like a challenge.
The receptionist, a woman with short black hair and stiff posture, blinked hard. "Miss Pereira, I’m afraid your father is in a meeting right now. He’s not available."
"I’m here to see him," Olivia said, voice flat, eyes cold.
"You can wait in the lounge until he’s free."
"I’m not asking," Olivia replied, jaw tight, tone sharp.
A beat passed. Then the woman gave a tight nod and gestured toward the lounge.
Olivia walked off without another word.
---
As she made her way through the corridor, her eyes landed on a group of men standing by the coffee machine. Her steps slowed. Jaw clenched. Breath tight in her chest. One of them turned. Blue shirt. Rolled sleeves. Stiff posture. Eyes like steel.
Her stomach clenched.
She changed direction without thinking, her boots echoing against the tile as she stalked toward him. That stare. That f*****g stare. Same as last night. Same as when he looked at her like he was about to consume her.
She walked straight toward him without hesitation. Her boots hit the floor harder now, purposeful. She stopped just short of him, her body tense, chin slightly raised.
What the f**k are you doing here? she snapped, stepping into his space, the words cutting through the air like a slap. The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them, sharp and stunned.
His face tensed, jaw locking as his eyes narrowed. The same unreadable expression. But she knew it was him.
The last person she expected to see there... was him.
- Writer
