Chasing The Heart Of Fortune

Zane Maxwell gazed down in the ballroom below from the head of the grand staircase. The jewelled lights, the murmur of laughter, the hubbub of talk. it was as though she moved in a play already rehearsed, But none of it captivated him. He was not here for the people, the event or even the charity. Zane just had eyes for the lady by the punch bowl. Her name was Seraphina Taylor, and she had no business being here, in his realm but then there she was standing by herself with a glass of champagne, her soft brown eyes ever so slightly unfocused as if nothing in the world held any interest for her. Zane’s gaze lingered, She wasn't like those women who clasped themselves at him, the cooing type, quick to smile, to laugh, to display their beauty. Sera was different. There was something vulnerable in her that seemed to draw him a silence, almost a sadness that made him feel perhaps like nothing ever had before And the gala was well underway, but Seraphina looked out of place. She wasn’t socializing, was not feigning carefree elegance like the others. She remained on the edges, among the multitudes, hidden from view. Her black dress was plain and unobtrusive, but the tight fit on her slight form made Zane stop and take notice. It wasn't the kind of dress that would command any attention, but it had his. Walking down the stairs with determined strides, he moved towards her without being able to resist the call of his gaze. There was something about her that drew him, something more than what met the eye. His knuckles curled into his tuxedo jacket’s side, and the din of the gala for a moment was replaced by the thud of his own heartbeat. All at once he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He looked up, and there was his assistant, Clara, with a professional smile plastered on her face. “Mr. Maxwell, your speech is going to begin,” she said, her voice a murmur. Zane nodded mindlessly, his attention still on Sera. But then something unexpected happened. She hesitated slightly, as if she could feel his eyes on her, then raised her head and glanced at him from over the top of her glass. Time appeared to stand still for a moment. It was as if her gaze, both gentle and demanding, unwound something inside him. It was a small thing, for only a moment, but it reverberated against him. A wave of doubt flooded him. He couldn’t articulate it, but he felt vulnerable. Vulnerable. Zane Maxwell had always believed himself untouchable, invincible. But then this woman, this mysterious stranger, she had him in a way that he’d never been under anyone’s control before. He turned his eyes away before he could do more damage and, although slight to the point of being barely noticeable, she dropped her gaze as well. But it was enough. Enough for him to sense the magnetic pull, the sheer gravity of the thing between them. "Mr. Maxwell, are you ready?" Clara echoed, this time more forcefully. Zane ripped his gaze off Sera, getting himself together. "Yes. Come on,' he said brusquely, marching towards the stage. But he hadn’t gotten more than a few feet from her when thoughts of the woman he had just met filled his mind. The party was in full swing, but Zane felt off-centre and out of place, like a cast member fighting to remember his lines, Shaking hands, nodding politely as he threaded his way through the crowd, she was on his mind, Seraphina Taylor, Who was she?, How did she get to be so special?, He’d been to so many parties, met so many women, but none like this. She was merely an assistant, no more than a notch in his carefully polished existence. But there was something about her that Zane just couldn’t stop thinking over, feeling there was much more to the woman beneath the surface. A voice brought him out of his reverie. "Zane, this way," his business partner Marcus called, dragging him to the front of the room where a podium stood. Zane nodded, banishing thoughts of Seraphina from his mind. But as he headed for the stage, there was no denying that the energy had changed. The crowd hushed in anticipation of the man who saved the day on his own. His gaze raked the room and he saw Seraphina again for a fleeting moment. She stood near the side of the room with her back turned to him, but she glanced over just enough for him to see a hint of tension in her posture. Zane frowned, Was she uncomfortable?, Was something wrong? The precariousness of her nervous state, the openness and fragility of it, made something stir in him. But before he could think more about it, they called his name, and he was onstage with a harsh beam of light in his eyes. He closed the gap, his mask of control slipping into place. Yet despite the commencement of his speech, his gaze couldn’t help but stray back towards her, a quiet tempest circling in his mind. The gala finished and people were starting to leave. Zane was comfortable, too, although the night had taken its toll. Racing his mind, but not work racing. It was her. Seraphina. He needed to know more about her And he didn’t have a reason why, but something convinced him that her presence - her quiet strength, despite its apparent fragility - was more than simply the helplessness of a woman lost in his shadow. He didn’t like leaving puzzles unsolved, and she was a puzzle. Somehow he was being drawn to the exit, pulled there despite himself. This was not his usual state– the impulse to go looking for someone without cause. But there he was, moving toward the side hallway where he’d glimpsed her moments earlier. But when he came around a corner, he stopped in his tracks. Seraphina was no longer alone. Standing next to her was a man - tall, broad-shouldered and swallowed by the black of his suit. Though Zane had no view of the man’s face from his position, to see him press in quite close to Seraphina and speak dive low with her elicited a jolt of jealousy. Why was she talking to him?, And why did there seem to be… something about this man that was… almost threatening? Zane clenched his jaw. The disquiet grew stronger, though he didn’t know why. The man said something else, and Seraphina’s face changed - her gentle appearance darkening. Zane’s heart leapt into his throat, but before he could say anything else, the man whirled around and walked off, leaving her back where she started. Zane’s steps were instinctive. Uncontrollably he took a step toward her. He needed answers. He wanted to know what was going on. "Seraphina," he uttered, the words sounded harsher than he'd wished. She jerked her head up and her eyes widened when she saw him. “Mr. Maxwell,” she sputtered, seemingly taken aback. Her eyes darted nervously beyond his shoulder, but he didn’t look where she was looking. "Who was that man?" "Want me?" Zane barked, but his voice was low and dangerously even. When Seraphina came back under cover, she swallowed again as though his violence had taken her off guard. Her lips opened, but she appeared to be speechless. “He…he was… a friend,” she said in a low voice, her words trembling. A friend? Zane didn’t know why, but it was a response that held no credence in his bones. Something about her was off. But he hadn’t had the chance to ask any sort of questions before she whipped around, making a mad dash for the safety of the hallway shadows. There was a moment where Zane felt paralyzed as he stood, the space around him hanging heavily with something that he couldn’t comprehend. Something was happening, And he wasn’t going to squander it.