Chapter 1: The Banquet
915 Words
“ Emily, the champagne is running low. Where's the back up?.” Her headset vibrated with the sharp voice of her assistant, Leo, and Emily Wilson resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. The banquet had only just begun, and already everything felt like it was unsteady towards disaster.
“Check the left-hand cooler by the balcony,” she replied, adjusting the strap of her black dress as she stroll through the glittering ballroom of the St.Regis Hotel. “And make sure no one sees you carrying bottles through the main floor. Last thing we need, is a guest overwhelmed by logistics.”
“Yes boss,” Leo answered, his sarcasm softened by the buzz of static.
Emily exhaled and tried to smile as she moved through the crowd. Tonight wasn't just another high-end event. This wa the biggest contract her small event planning firm had landed- a Wall Street investor banquet crawling with power players in tailored suits and gowns worth more than her yearly rent. If she pulled this off, she'd secure her place in New York’s competitive corporate events scene. If she failed?
Her parents’ voices echoed in her head. Maybe this city is too much for you, Emily.
Maybe you should come back home.
Not an option. Not when she'd fought this hard. She stopped near the bar to check the lighting. The Chandelier glowed golden, bouncing off champagne flutes and diamond necklaces. Perfect. At least one thing was under control.
“Ms. Wilson?”
She turned, heart skipping. The man addressing her was tall, dark-haired, and powerfully composed, his charcoal-grey suit tailored to perfection. His voice was low, smooth, and commanding.
“Yes?” She asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I'm Jason Brooklyn.” His handshake was firm, his gaze steady. “You're the planner, correct?”
Her stomach dipped. She knew the name. Everyone did. Brooklyn Investments. A billionaire investor with a reputation for swallowing up companies whole. He was power incarnate and danger wrapped in elegance.
“Yes I am,” Emily managed. “Is everything satisfactory so far, Mr. Brooklyn?
His eyes flicked around the room, then returned to her's. “Impressive. Organized. Not many people can tame a crowd like this.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks at the unexpected compliment.
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
His mouth curved into the faintest smile. “I imagine it does. In a city like this, approval is everything.” The way he said it-not unkind, but weighted, knowing-made her chest tighten. Did he see through her polished exterior? Did he somehow know how desperately she needed tonight to succeed?
Before she could respond, her earpiece rattled. “Emily!” Leo's panicked whisper nearly pierced her eardrum. “We've got a problem. One of the projection screens just died. The slideshow for the keynote is gone.”
Her blood ran cold. The keynote was the center piece of the evening- a slick presentation about investments, innovation, and the promise of tomorrow of the screen failed so would she.
“Where?. She sighed into the mic. “East side of the ballroom.”
Emily forced a smile at Jason, though her pulse thundered in her throat. “Excuse me, Mr. Brooklyn, Duty calls.”
She moved slowly through the crowd, weaving past tables draped in ivory linen and centerpieces of white orchids. Sure enough, one of the massive LED screens had gone black, leaving a gaping hole of dead space where glossy images should have been. Guest were already murmuring.
“Leo, what happened?” She demanded. He squatted beside the equipment rack, his dark curls wild with panic. “The system just shorted. I don't know if we can reboot it.”
“Make it work,” she ordered, squatting beside him. “If we fail now, we'll never get another shot like this.”
“I'm trying!”
A shadow fell over them.
“Need help?”
Emily's head snapped up. Jason Brooklyn stood above them, hands in his pockets, gaze, unreadable. Her throat tightened. “It's under control, Mr. Brooklyn. Just a technical glitch.
He squatted beside her surprising her. “That's not just a glitch. That's a wreck.”
“Look.” He pointed to a tiny scorch mark near the cable port. “That's deliberate. Someone wanted this to fail.” Her mind raced. Wreck? Why would anyone….unless… Her contract. Her growing reputation. Someone wanted her out of the game before she'd even begun.
Jason's eyes met hers, steady, sharp. “Whoever's after you won't stop here. Be careful, Ms. Wilson.” His word sent a chill down her spine.
Before she could respond, the dead screen flickered back to life. The slideshow resuming as though nothing had happened. Relief flooded her veins, but the unease remained.
She rose, smoothing her dress, forcing her voice steady. “Thank you, Mr. Brooklyn. But I can handle myself.”
I don't doubt it.” His gaze remained a fraction too long before he straightened and disappeared into the crowd.
Emily exhaled, but her relief was short-lived. Her phone buzzed. A new text message glowed on the screen.
Unknown Number: Careful, Emily. One mistake, and your whole comes crashing down.
Her fingers went cold. She looked around the glittering bathroom, every guest suddenly a potential threat.
And for the first time that night, the city she loved didn't feel like a dream. It felt like a trap.
- Writer
