Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Rule Number Eleven of Adeline’s Guide to Overcoming Loneliness: Adeline, don’t be afraid to let yourself be seen. Hiding protects you, but it also keeps the world from finding you. It’s worth trying to step into the light, little by little. The world can’t meet the real you unless you show up.
I spot an approaching minicab and can’t resist calling out for it. “Taxi!” I yell, much louder than I intended.
To my relief, the vehicle screeches to a halt just in front of me. I hurriedly climb into the backseat. I sit stiffly, trying to focus on my breathing. Cars make me uneasy—have done ever since. And now I’m back in one. My fingers clutch Camille’s phone tighter, but I manage a tight smile.
The driver, a middle-aged man with a bemused expression, glances at me through the rearview mirror. “Where are you
headed?” the driver asks, his tone flat.
I rummage through the phone again, retrieving the address from Camille’s notes. Without hesitation, I hold up the phone, displaying the address to the driver. His eyes widen, an unmistakable look of surprise crossing his face. His eyes dart from the screen to me, or more specifically, my footwear.
“What?” I blurt out, then with sudden realisation an “Oh” escapes my lips.
I clearly don’t look like I should be attending such an event.
“I’m not invited or anything,” I reassure him.
Oddly enough, my reassurance seems to concern the man even more.
His brow furrows, clearly puzzled by the situation.
His lips press into a thin line, and the silence stretches.
“Sooo…” I venture, trying to fill the awkward void. “I’m Adeline. Not that you asked, but, you know, just in case.”
The driver blinks at me through the mirror, unimpressed. “Brian,” he says curtly.
I can’t help it. I almost laugh. Of course, his name is Brian. He looks like a Brian if there ever was one.
“So, Brian,” I begin, my words tumbling out before I can stop them, “how long have you been a cab driver?”
Come on Brian, please say something.
“A while,” he deadpans.
Before I can fully explain my presence at the event because clearly, I concerned him the first time, Brian interrupts my train of thought. “You don’t have many friends, do you?” he says bluntly.
That strikes a nerve, honestly. Never did I think I’d be so humbled by a taxi driver. My instinct is to snap back, but instead, I force a tight-lipped smile. “Wow. Aren’t taxi drivers supposed to be nice? I should talk to your boss.”
Surprisingly, a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Brian’s lips. It’s barely noticeable, but I swear I see it. I lean back in my seat feeling suddenly victorious.
***
As Brian’s car disappears into the distance, I realize I did something I didn’t think I could do: I didn’t freak out.
But I don’t get a chance to internally congratulate myself, because I find myself standing before a grand mansion.
Castle. That’s the only word for it. Towers stretch toward the sky, and grand stone walls glisten under the soft glow of lights.
Dressed-up people adorned in elegant gowns and tailored suits glide through the entrance, all looking like they’ve just stepped off the cover of some fancy magazine.
And then there’s me.
Ugly shoes and all.
The guards at the entrance clock me immediately. Their sharp gazes slice through me, and I can feel the judgment radiating off them. One of them steps forward, his voice stiff and formal. “Name?”
“Um…” My voice falters, and I clutch the phone tighter. “I’m not on the list. I’m just here to return my friend’s phone. Camille. She’s a waitress.”
The guard exchanges a glance with his partner. Neither of them looks convinced—or remotely interested. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave.”
“Wait,” I say, desperation slipping into my voice. “I just need to give this to her. That’s all. Then I’ll go.”
The guards remain unmoved, their expressions blank as statues. “For safety reasons, you have to leave now,” one of them says, and honestly it makes me want to punch him in the face. Not that I would do much damage.
“Do you really think someone like me could be plotting against rich people or carrying some kind of secret bomb? I mean, really?” I snap and immediately regret it when I see the look on their faces. “I mean—obviously I’m not! I’m just… Oh, come on.”
With nonchalant ease, the guards swiftly block my path. “Listen here, Steve —” I say, reading one of the guard’s name tags, but before the situation escalates, a sharp voice interrupts whatever standoff we’re having. “Ah, the new waitress.”
I whip around to see a woman in a sleek black suit striding toward us. Her heels click against the cobblestones. “Wait,” I start, holding up my hands. “I’m not —”
She doesn’t wait for an explanation. Her hand clamps onto my arm, and before I know it, she’s dragging me inside. If this is how rich people welcome guests, I am not here for it. I stumble awkwardly in my ill-suited footwear, attempting to regain my balance as she leads me through the door.
“Please listen to me, I’m not here to be a waitress,” I yell, but my protests just seem to bounce off her as she drags me through the halls with an iron grip, and all I can do is stumble along, dodging the curious glances of passing guests.
“Excuse me, but I really need to speak to your boss,” I say urgently, but either this woman is having hearing malfunctions, or she genuinely doesn’t care.
I’m guessing it’s probably not the first option.
“You can speak to him after you’re done. If he feels like it,” she says without stopping, until finally, she shoves me into a room lined with uniforms. “Put this on,” she orders, tossing a black dress onto a chair without so much as looking at me.
The dress. Oh god, the dress.
It’s short—like way short. The kind of short that makes me rethink every squat I’ve ever skipped. And every time I purposely got out of PE class. “I’m not really sure this is… me,” I try weakly.
The woman raises an unimpressed brow. “Get dressed. Now.”
The door slams shut behind her, leaving me alone with the awful dress. Reluctantly, I pick it up, and yep, it’s even shorter up close. Camille really owes me for this.
I shimmy into the dress with admittedly no grace whatsoever, contorting myself at strange angles. It clings in all the wrong places, and the neckline plunges a way that makes me feel way too exposed for my liking.
I glance around the room. No mirrors. Probably for the best.
I consider my options: sneak out through the vents (though I doubt this place has them), run for the nearest exit (if I can find it), or just accept my fate.
I make my way to the door. Cautiously, I step out.
Ducking and covering my face, I try to make my way out.
Might as well call me a ninja at this point.
Just as I let out a sigh of relief, convinced I’ve successfully evaded detection, a voice stops me in my tracks.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I spin around, and there she is—the woman from earlier, standing beside a tall, stern man with an aura that screams do not mess with me. This must be the boss I was promised, and he looks every bit as intimidating as I had imagined.
He’s impeccably dressed, his suit so sharp and so expensive it’s probably worth my entire house. His blue eyes lock onto mine, looking almost grey in this light, as a flicker of recognition flashes in them, before his expression hardens into something colder. Resentful, even.
“Um…” I falter, glancing between them. “Away from you?”
The woman rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of her head. “I brought you to meet my boss,” she says sharply. “So, talk.”
Oh, dear.
***
The woman looks down at me, waiting for a proper response. And the man—the boss, I assume—sizes me up with an expression that suggests I’ve already failed at impressing him. Although, admittedly, I wasn’t trying.
His expression transforms into something more unpleasant. No matter how hard he tries to conceal it, the disappointment in his eyes is unmistakable.
It seeps through the cracks of his composed facade. Pure resentment.
And I don’t even know why.
“Allow me to introduce my boss, Mr. Steele,” the woman finally says.
My stomach drops. Of course. Kai’s father. The resemblance is glaringly obvious now—the same sharp jawline, the same shade of blue-grey that Kai has in parts of his eyes, too.
“Hi,” I manage, my voice too high and too shaky. “This is all a big misunderstanding. I’m not supposed to be here. I was just trying to return a phone to my friend, and —”
“Unfortunately, we’re short-staffed tonight,” Mr. Steele interrupts, his voice smooth but icy. “You’ll take on the role of a waitress. Whether you intended to or not.”
I gape at him. “But I —”
“Rest assured, you’ll be compensated for your services,” he cuts in, already turning away.
And I stop.
I need the money, of course I do. The moment he says it, I know I won’t be able to make myself leave. And it seems this man knows it too, because he walks away without sparing me another glance.
“For the love of god, put on some proper shoes,” the woman sighs and pulls me back into the room before I have time to object.
***
The tray wobbles precariously in my hands when I step into the ballroom.
My feet hurt so bad in these borrowed boots because holy hell they are tight, and the dress—don’t even get me started.
I’m readjusting it with each step I take, and it’s beginning to get exceptionally annoying. Also why is this dress so damn short?
My eyes fly across the room, taking in the sea of suits and expensive gowns, the flawlessly polished flooring, and the sparkling chandeliers.
I feel like a sheep in a pack of wolves.
And as I approach a cluster of guests, a man reaches for a drink from my tray. His eyes flicker to my face, trail down, stay there.
What. The. Hell.
What is wrong with people these days?
The fact he doesn’t even try to be discreet makes my skin crawl. I shuffle back, muttering something unintelligible before moving on to the next group of people.
And then I see them.
Christian Ryder and Liam Grey.
Of course. Because my life isn’t complicated enough.
They’re leaning casually against a marble column, looking like an absolute dream. I duck down instinctively, clutching my tray like a shield. Maybe if I move quickly enough, they won’t see —
Too late. Christian’s gaze locks onto me, and he nudges Liam, who follows his line of sight, and suddenly, they’re both staring. My heart leaps into my throat, as I turn and bolt, weaving through the crowd. I duck, crouch, and spin, hoping against hope they’ll lose track of me.
But before I can escape, a firm hand grabs my arm, yanking me to my feet. Panic immediately surges through me, my throat ready to release a piercing scream, until I see who it is—Christian and Liam.
That, in fact, makes me want to scream more.
Liam grins down at me, his expression equal parts amused and curious. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“I… uh…” I stammer, trying to form words, and inevitably failing. “Long story.” I breathe out, trying to avoid eye contact in this horrible dress.
“You know what would be helpful?” Liam says, still holding onto my arm. “The short version.”
I groan, gesturing to my dress. “Camille left her phone at the café. I brought it to her. Then this happened.”
Liam’s eyes rake over my outfit, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “You should wear that more often.”
“Shut up.” My cheeks burn, but I use the opportunity to attempt to release myself from Liam. The moment I try though, Liam’s grip tightens around my arm once again, preventing my escape. I shoot him a pointed look. “Let go. Please.”
“You’re lucky it’s only me and him,” Liam murmurs, nodding toward Christian. “And not Will or Kai. Very lucky. I don’t think Kai likes you very mu—”
“Leave, Adeline.” Christian’s voice cuts him off, low and quite terrifying.
Liam glances over at him, eyebrow raised. “Just think she deserves to know. You know how he can be.”
Christian doesn’t respond, but the look he gives Liam is enough to silence him. A warning. One Liam seems used to ignoring, because he only shrugs.
I consider Liam’s words for a beat. I think back to Kai’s expression earlier, how it changed like the flip of a switch. The disgust I saw there.
Well at least that explains the look he gave me before.
Guess the charm wore off.
Christian’s gaze shifts to me then, his eyes sharp, unreadable. He seems to be considering what Liam said, maybe even to be about to speak—but I cut him off.
“I haven’t even seen Kai, and he won’t see me. I need this job, and I won’t take orders from either of you,” I assert, finally pulling my arm free.
Liam’s grin fades as his gaze shifts behind me. I follow his line of sight and freeze.
There he is.
Kai Steele.
And the sight of him takes my breath away. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that accentuates his tall, strong physique. His light brown hair is styled effortlessly, and the slight hint of a smile graces his lips.
Beside him stands Berlin, her hair styled in perfect curls. The two of them seem engrossed in a conversation. And there, right next to Kai, is Vivienne St. Claire, the actress. She leans in close, her hand brushing his arm as they talk.
My stomach twists.
“Is that…?” I whisper.
Liam nods grimly. “It’s exactly who you think it is. It’s fucking Vivienne St. Claire.”
I swallow hard, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.