Elliott had only managed a few unsteady steps towards the end of the hallway before the muffled thrum of voices reached him. He froze, slowled down and carefully looked out...then backed deeper into the hallway instead of going out.
Through the glass at the far end, the flash of cameras confirmed his worst suspicion. The press. They were waiting, clustered outside like vultures scenting blood.
If he stumbled out there now- disheveled, half-drugged, shirt torn-the headlines would write themselves. Starlink would win without lifting another finger.
Jaw tight, he forced himself to steady his breathing. He needed another way out.
A waiter rounded the corner carrying a tray of glasses. Elliott moved quickly, intercepting him with a sharp gesture and asked roughly, "Where's the staff exit?"
The young man looked at him startled and Elliott grimaced inwardly as the man's eyes widened and recognition flickered across his face. "I'll give you a good tip. Please don't say anything."
Elliott thought he saw understanding flash across the man's face but it was probably only greed. He was about to walk away and look for the exit himself when the waiter set down the tray and reached for Elliott's wrist. "It's this way, sir. I'll show you."
Elliott let himself be tugged along, though his instincts screamed at the contact of being held and almost dragged. His mind churned. Could he trust this stranger? Could he risk asking him to call a cab? No.
That would mean handing over control. Worse, his body was betraying him with the drug creeping through his veins, his limbs heavier with each step. He could not afford to collapse in front of anyone or let himself be vulnerable. He needed somewhere safe and hidden.
A storage room with a locked door. Anywhere to buy himself time while keeping away from the others.
The thought had barely formed when the waiter veered suddenly, pulling him into a waiting elevator.
Elliott's senses snapped to full alert. Instinct overrode the drug's fog. In a blur, he slammed the man against the wall, his hand clamped around his throat.
"Where are you taking me?" He growled in a low voice. At this moment, he was angry enough to kill, even if that meant exposing everything he had hidden over the past years...
The waiter choked, and his hands clawed at Elliott's wrist as he tried to ask, his eyes wide in horrot, "P-please, sir. This is a special private elevator. I swear, I'm only trying to help. Please-"
Elliott's eyes narrowed, the words barely penetrating the pounding in his skull. The drug was working fast, already dulling his reflexes, weighing down his arms. Adrenaline was the only thing that was keeping him going. But that meant, his blood was pumping faster, spreading the drug in his system faster as well.
With one hand locked tightly around the waiter's throat, he reached out with the other and slammed the emergency stop button on the elevator panel.
Nothing happened. The elevator continued its smooth ascent, humming softly and almost mockingly, as though nothing were wrong.
Elliott's grip tightened another fraction, his knuckles white with the strain of holding himself upright. "Why isn't it stopping?" he demanded, his voice a dangerous growl. "What did you do?"
The waiter's eyes widened in terror. "I—I don't know why it is not stopping. I was only- taking you- to safety-sir!"
Elliott's jaw clenched. Every instinct told him this could be another trap. One, which would be even worse.
The elevator shuddered. Then, with a faint ding, it slowed to a halt. Elliott stiffened, every nerve in his body snapping to attention. He didn't release the waiter. His narrowed gaze flicked toward the door, ready for anything, even if it meant being tagged as someone trying to commit murder.
The steel doors opened and Elliott, who had been expecting the flash of cameras stilled.
On the other side, leaning lazily against the opposite wall of the elevator, stood a woman.
Vanessa Grant with a nonchalant expression on her face as if she'd been waiting for him.
As their eyes met, a slow smile spread across her lips and she moved slowly stepping into the elevator.
Elliott tensed, his grip still iron on the waiter's throat. His free hand twitched toward the panel again, though he knew the buttons were useless.
The woman stopped only a step away as her gaze travelled from Elliott's torn shirt to the steel in his eyes, then to the trembling man pinned against the wall.
And then- without warning- she reached out and tapped his lower back once. Then again. Before rubbing it, as if soothing him. He stiffened and stared at her.
"Let him go," she said smoothly, "He really was bringing you to safety."
Elliott's eyes narrowed as he looked at her with suspicion. The waiter had brought her here... to her. That did not necessarily mean safety.
But the woman didn't wait for his response. Or any argument from him. She lifted her hand and pushed something into his hand. "Here. Take this."
He looked down at the jacket, then back up at her before slowly letting go of the waiter..
Her smile widened at his obeying the order and she walked back out as she said over her shoulder, "Follow me if you want to escape."
Then, with a wink, she turned and walked down the corridor.
Elliott stood frozen, the jacket heavy in his arms, his mind racing. The waiter was gasping for breath as Elliott let go. Taking a deep breath, Elliott walked out of the elevator, without a backward glance...
Behind him, the waiter almost collapsed against the elevator wall, coughing, clutching at his throat, too weak or too frightened to run. He'd thought this was easy money.
Bringing the man to Miss Grant... He'd earned a thousand dollars and meet his favourite star. Who would have thought that the delicate flower on screen would be so powerful in real life. For a few moments, his life had flashed before his eyes and he'd thought that he would die here.
No wonder he always mentioned in his interviews that fans should not believe everything they see. Never again would he think of Elliott as weak... But this little change of personality that he had witnessed... the waiter smiled. Well, it seemed Elliott did like being chased though and he was obedient to women....