Twilight stretched slowly over the city, bathing the streets in a golden light. Inside the Hilton Hotel, the atmosphere buzzed with an elegant excitement. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow, reflecting off golden walls and beautifully set tables. Laughter and animated conversations mingled with the soft melody of a string quartet.
Waiters, impeccably dressed, weaved between the guests with choreographed precision, carrying trays of champagne glasses and fancy hors d'oeuvres. Elegant dresses. Tailored suits. Soft whispers. Luxury was in every detail.
Lina Cap adjusted her apron without thinking. Twenty-nine years old. Five-three. A few extra curves she always promised to lose… but never did. Her life wasn't a fairytale, but she was happy. No savings, no big plans. Just the desire to enjoy life—especially with Tom and Éloïse.
Her biggest pride? The little studio she had just bought. A perfect little nest… or so it seemed. Behind the charm, she'd quickly learned the realities of homeownership: crumbling walls, pipes on the verge of giving out… Yeah, the little extras were always a welcome surprise.
A voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Did you see what they're serving?"
Éloïse, flawless as always. Her long red hair framed her delicate face. Lina, on the other hand, was stuck in a daily struggle with her wild brown curls. A small thing, but one that made her a little jealous sometimes.
Éloïse exuded the natural confidence Lina lacked. She never doubted herself. Thoughtful, ambitious, she was the most grounded of the trio. She'd gone through her share of dead-end jobs, but this time was different—she had just landed a position at a marketing agency. The pay wasn't great, but it was a foot in the door to the world she'd been chasing.
The only downside? The agency was moving to Portugal in a few weeks. Éloïse had taken it in stride. For her, it was an opportunity—distance didn't matter. And after living with her parents her whole life, the challenge felt like freedom.
For Lina, it was different. The thought of Éloïse being so far away made her chest tighten, but she pushed it out of her mind. She didn't want to rain on her friend's parade. Despite the sadness, she was truly happy for her.
"I've already tasted it in the kitchen. It's kinda meh ."
Éloïse raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-realistic.
"Stop messing around, Linou. Remember why we're here. Don't screw this up."
Lina nodded and refocused on her task. Tonight, the maître d', a guy named Mr. Hocq, was especially picky. Every detail counted.
Then, her eyes landed on a celebrity she'd seen on TV the night before.
Think they'll catch on if I ask for an autograph?
A politician was talking to a famous actress, while a finance mogul burst into laughter at another guest's joke. Lina couldn't help but be impressed, though a part of her remained detached.
The evening was in full swing when she finally allowed herself a cigarette break. Slipping out unnoticed, she headed toward the back of the hotel, to the staff's designated area. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. She took a deep breath, savoring the brief moment of respite, though her body kept reminding her that her period was just around the corner.
Leaning against a service door, Lina was scrolling through her phone with one hand, a cigarette in the other. Exercise videos flashed before her eyes. Getting back into fitness was a start, even if it was more of a mental thing for now—the gym membership was proof of that. The next step was crossing the threshold. In the meantime, watching the exercises, or rather the athletes, was a first step.
God, I'd love to lick those abs…
A movement caught her eye.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. A man—tall, athletic… in sweatpants. Totally out of place at an event like this. He was walking fast toward the door, giving Lina a chance to get a better look at him—messy black hair, breath coming unevenly, like he'd been running.
For once, I'm not the last one.
She exhaled a puff of smoke, amused, and casually said:
"You're super late. Take the other door, or Hocq's gonna be on your case."
She gestured with her chin toward a door farther away.
The man didn't slow down, walking straight toward her like he didn't even notice her. No glance, no acknowledgment. Just pure indifference.
Lina felt a flicker of irritation.
When he reached her, she shot back, sharp:
"Dude, you reek. You really think these rich people are gonna let you near them? "
He stopped dead. A beat. Like he was considering her words before answering. Then, slowly, he turned to face her.
His gaze hit her like a punch. Direct. Invasive. But not condescending. He was sizing her up.
Lina instinctively took a step back. This wasn't a man looking at a woman, or a guy offended by an insult. This was something else.
"I don't "reek". And I'm not a waiter."
His voice was flat, steady—almost too calm.
She frowned.
"So what are you, then?"
No answer. Just silence. A little too long. Then he looked away and kept walking, like she wasn't even there.
Is he serious?
Lina clenched her fists.
"I was just trying to help, asshole!"
He barely slowed down. Then kept walking, disappearing into the building.
Lina crushed her cigarette with a sharp gesture, exhaling in frustration.
Idiot.
Back in the hall, she tried to shake off the annoyance from the stranger and get back into the rhythm of the evening. The encounter had left her rattled, but she quickly pushed it aside, refocusing on her work. She moved through the guests, tray in hand, exchanging brief words with Éloïse every time she passed by her.
"By the way, babe, there's someone worse than me tonight," she said with a sly grin.
"Oh yeah? How so?" Éloïse asked, reaching for a few empty glasses.
"Some guy in joggers just showed up."
She paused for dramatic effect, then added:
"I told him to steer clear of Hocq, and the guy totally blew me off "
Éloïse raised an eyebrow, amused.
"His loss. He's gonna get kicked out."
"No doubt!" Lina grinned a little too broadly. The idea of the guy getting booted out gave her a strange sense of satisfaction.
The evening was in full swing, filled with soft conversations and the steady hum of elegant music. Lina moved through the crowd with her tray, a polite smile fixed on her face, though her mind was elsewhere.
He was actually kinda hot, Lina thought, before immediately feeling irritated. That guy... he was as arrogant as they come, with that superior look of his.
She shook her head.
Ridiculous.
The energy in the room never faltered, sustained by the back-and-forth of servers and the controlled bursts of chatter, until a sudden quiet fell over the crowd. A ripple of excitement spread among the guests, and slowly, the murmurs died down. All eyes turned to the stage.
The name Daniel Beresford floated through the air, said with a hint of awe. The atmosphere shifted—subtle but palpable, as if the room itself had tensed. Lina, momentarily distracted by her work, felt the change and turned her head instinctively.
That's when He appeared.
A man in his thirties, standing on stage, his face unreadable. His gaze was fixed, almost unnervingly so, as if he were analyzing everything without truly seeing anyone around him. He wasn't smiling.
His black suit, tailored to perfection, gave him a commanding presence, but that wasn't what drew attention. It was the stillness, the intensity that demanded silence without effort. No flashy movements, no attempt to charm, just a quiet authority.
Lina watched him for a moment. He didn't have the typical charm of men who knew how to work a room, but there was something else about him—a raw, almost unsettling power. It was impossible to look away.
And let's be honest: he was handsome. Really handsome. But in a way that seemed irrelevant to him, as if it meant nothing.
A sudden jolt ran through her. Her heart skipped.
Her eyes widened.
It was him.
The guy in the tracksuit.
Lina felt the color drain from her face. In a flash, she turned to Éloïse.
"It's him..." she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Him, who?" Éloïse asked, her curiosity piqued.
Lina couldn't tear her eyes away from the stage.
"The guy in the tracksuit..." she breathed, still in shock.
Éloïse stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief.
"No way, that's Daniel Beresford."
Lina shrugged, still too stunned to understand.
But Éloïse's face shifted, as if something clicked for her.
"He's the CEO of R.B.H.," she added, her voice almost accusing, as if Lina should've already known that.
Lina's eyes went wide. She didn't know him, but that name... it rang in her head like a bell.
"Oh fuck..." she whispered, her stomach clenching with cold dread. What have I done? Damn, I just had to open my big mouth...
She couldn't look away from him now, the man she had just insulted without even knowing who he was.
Holy crap, that's really him...
Her heart thudded in her chest as he spoke, unaware of the mess she'd just made. Lina wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor.
Éloïse, watching the panic spread across Lina's face, raised an eyebrow, suddenly serious.
"Wait, you actually spoke to him? And... what exactly did you say?" Éloïse asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and concern.
Lina bit her lip, overwhelmed. Her mind was racing, replaying the conversation over and over. She would've given anything to go back and erase it all.
Finally, she muttered, almost too softly to hear, her gaze fixed on the floor as if it could swallow her up.
"I told him he stinks. And... I called him an asshole."
She put her hands over her face, horrified.
"What did you say?" Éloïse's eyes widened, her jaw slightly dropping in shock. She studied Lina for a long moment, her face unreadable. But in her gaze, Lina could see just how serious this was.
"You need to get to the kitchen," Éloïse said, her voice now a little more urgent, but still with that edge of concern. "That way, you won't risk bumping into him again."
Lina nodded, her mind made up. The kitchen was her best chance at avoiding further disaster. She hurried in that direction, desperate to hide for the rest of the night.
After an hour of chatting with Noë, a pastry chef focused on perfecting his desserts for the evening, Lina managed to relax. The kitchen's warmth and the quiet hum of the staff helped her forget the awkwardness of her earlier encounter with Daniel Beresford.
The end of her shift was in sight, and she was already looking forward to heading home with Éloïse.
Then a murmur drifted through the air, cutting through the clattering of utensils.
"Did you hear? Daniel Beresford is here in the kitchen to thank everyone."
A colleague passed by, his eyes quickly flicking over her.
Lina froze.
No. She hoped she had misheard. But as she looked up, there he was. Daniel Beresford, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his back to her as he chatted with Monsieur Hocq. Her heart skipped a beat.
Not now, not like this...
"She quickly slid toward the back of the room, desperate to avoid his gaze, but it was already too late.
In her rush, she fumbled with the tray in her hands. It slipped from her fingers with a loud metallic clang. The sound of the tray hitting the floor seemed to echo and fill the room. Every pair of eyes in the kitchen turned toward her.
Crimson with embarrassment, Lina felt utterly exposed. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and vanish. But then came that one look—the one that pinned her to the spot.
She met Daniel's gaze, and the world seemed to freeze.
It wasn't hostile. It wasn't comforting. It was something else. He looked at her like he could see right through her, reading every part of her. That steady, assessing look. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned away, redirecting his attention back to Hocq.
Lina, however, stayed rooted to the spot, her hands trembling. Her thoughts collided in a whirlwind of confusion and self-loathing.
She closed her eyes for a second, trying to steady her breathing, forcing herself to calm down. She kept telling herself the same thing: the evening was nearly over. She would never have to face him again.
But somehow, the weight of his stare still lingered, burning in the back of her mind."