Chapter Two
1489 Words
Olivia’s POV
My knees gave way. I braced for the cold marble floor, but it never came.
For a heartbeat, nobody reacted.
Then conversations stopped one after another, like dominoes falling. Music still drifted through the ballroom, but it sounded distant now.
Someone gasped. “Oh my God…”
“Is she alright?” I blinked, trying to focus on the broken glass at my feet.
What on earth was wrong with me? I’d only had two glasses of champagne.
Maybe two… definitely two.
I reached for the edge of the nearest table, hoping to steady myself, but my fingers missed it completely, and the room tilted. A wave of heat spread through my body so suddenly that I caught my breath. It felt as though every light in the ballroom had been turned directly towards me.
“Olivia?” Claire’s voice floated across the room. She sounded worried.
“I…” The word barely escaped before my knees buckled. This was it. I was about to make the most humiliating entrance and exit in the history of corporate events. Brilliant.
If anyone were handing out awards for public embarrassment, I’d just secured first place. Except… I never hit the floor.
An arm wrapped firmly around my waist, stopping my fall before it happened, and for a second, I stood there, leaning against someone I had never met.
Strong. Steady. Warm.
The scent of cedarwood and clean linen surrounded me, not overpowering. Just… familiar somehow.
“You’ve got her, sir?”
“Yes.” The reply came in a calm, even voice. Deep enough that I felt it more than I heard it.
“Move back,” he said. Nobody argued. “I need some space.”
I frowned. Whoever this man was, people listened to him without hesitation.
Within seconds, the small crowd surrounding us stepped backwards. Even through my blurred vision, I noticed the way hotel security reacted. Not because they had been told to, but because they already knew who was giving the orders.
Claire hurried over, her heels clicking rapidly against the polished floor. “Oh, Olivia.” She crouched beside me, her face full of panic.
“What happened?”
“I don’t…” I swallowed. “…know.”
“I was talking to you five minutes ago.”
“I know.”
“You looked absolutely fine.”
“So did I.” She almost laughed despite herself. Then she looked up at the man holding me.
“I’m so sorry, Mr Kingston.”
Mr Kingston. The name brushed against a memory that refused to surface.
Kingston Holdings. The company hosting tonight’s gala. Slowly, I forced myself to look up, but I couldn’t see his face clearly. The lights above us were too bright, and my vision refused to cooperate. All I could make out was dark hair, broad shoulders beneath an impeccably tailored black suit, and a silver watch peeking from beneath the cuff of his shirt.
The watch caught the light every time he moved. The kind people noticed only because everything else about the man demanded attention first.
He looked down at me. “Did you hit your head?”
I blinked. “I don’t think so.”
He turned to Claire. “Call the hotel doctor.”
“I already have.”
“Good.”
No panic. No raised voice. Just quiet confidence, and it was strangely reassuring.
Someone whispered nearby, “The press are looking this way.”
Another voice answered, “They’re taking pictures.”
Claire’s face turned pale. “Oh, no.”
I didn’t understand why everyone suddenly looked so nervous. Then it hit me. I’d collapsed in the middle of one of London’s biggest corporate events, in front of everyone.
Wonderful.
I closed my eyes; maybe if I stayed unconscious long enough, I wouldn’t have to remember any of it.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
Claire frowned. “What are you apologising for?”
“I’ve ruined your evening.” For a second, nobody spoke. Then the man beside me said quietly,
“I think you’re worrying about the wrong thing.” His voice wasn’t unkind. It was simply a matter of fact. The sort of voice that made problems sound smaller than they felt.
Before I realised what he intended to do, one arm slipped beneath my knees. The next thing I knew, he had lifted me into his arms. Heat rushed straight to my face.
“No.” The protest came automatically.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t.”
“Then put me down.”
“You’ll fall.”
“I’m not going to.”
“You nearly did.” I opened my mouth to argue, then thought better of it. He had a point.
Around us, guests pretended not to stare. Some failed miserably. Camera flashes flickered somewhere behind us, then I buried my face against his shoulder. Perhaps if I couldn’t see them… they couldn’t see me.
“I can feel you hiding,” he said.
“Yes, I am.”
“It’s not working.”
“I’m aware.” For the first time since I’d started feeling strange, I laughed. It came out weak and breathless, but it was still a laugh.
“I don’t even know your name.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I feel like I should.”
A pause, then he answered. “Alexander.”
Just Alexander. Nothing more, no title, no introduction, or any attempt to impress me.
The private lift opened almost immediately, and as soon as the doors closed behind us, the noise from the ballroom disappeared. Silence settled between us. Only the faint hum of the lift remained. I stared at the mirrored wall opposite us. The woman staring back at me barely looked like me.
My cheeks were flushed. My hair had escaped the neat style I’d spent twenty minutes fixing. I looked exhausted, mortified, and completely out of place beside the man holding me.
“I’ve made an awful first impression.”
Alexander looked at me briefly. “On who?”
I frowned. “Everyone.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means most people are too busy thinking about themselves to spend long thinking about you.” I considered that, and it was oddly comforting.
“That’s either incredibly wise…” I swallowed. “…or deeply insulting.”
His lips moved ever so slightly, not quite a smile. “I’ll let you decide.”
The lift doors opened onto a quiet executive floor, and soft lighting stretched along the corridor. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked London’s glittering skyline. The city looked beautiful from up here. So different from the view outside my little flat in East London. I wondered what it must feel like to belong in a world like this.
Alexander carried me into a suite that was larger than my entire apartment. He set me carefully on the edge of the bed before stepping back, giving me space.
Another knock sounded. “The doctor has arrived, sir.”
“Send him in.”
An elderly doctor entered carrying a leather medical case.
He smiled kindly. “So you’re the young lady causing all the excitement.”
I groaned. “Please don’t remind me.”
“I’ll try not to.”
He checked my pulse before shining a small light into my eyes. “When did you last eat?”
“Lunch.”
“And since then?”
I hesitated. “…Champagne.”
The doctor looked at me over the top of his glasses. “I was hoping for a slightly more nutritious answer.”
“I was busy working.”
“So I’ve heard.” He nodded thoughtfully.
“You’ve probably exhausted yourself.” That explanation made sense.
Too much work, too little food, and a couple of glasses of champagne. No wonder I felt awful.
The doctor packed away his torch. “I’d like you to rest for a while.” I nodded.
Across the room, Alexander loosened his tie, just enough to make himself comfortable. He rubbed the back of his neck. For the first time that evening, he looked tired.
He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again.
“You alright?” I asked.
He looked across the room. For a second, he didn’t answer.
Then he gave a small nod. “Long day.”
“I know the feeling.”
He took a step towards the doctor. Halfway there, he stopped, and his hand gripped the back of a chair, not dramatically. Almost as though he’d suddenly lost his balance.
The doctor looked up. “So,” he said lightly, “perhaps I’m treating two exhausted people tonight.”
Alexander gave a short, humourless laugh. “Perhaps.”
His breathing hitched. Something wasn’t right. And judging by the look on the doctor’s face… he knew it too.
- Writer
