The hall erupted in cheers as Bianca signed her name on the glossy magazine cover. Cameras flashed like fireworks, capturing her every smile. Elara clapped politely, but suddenly felt pressed so she left for the bathroom. After relieving herself, she put a call through to Madeline as she washed her hands.
Inside, the quiet felt almost unreal after the buzz of the event. She washed her hands, phone pressed between her shoulder and ear.
"How's it going?" Madeline asked on the other end.
"It's great," Elara replied, glancing at her reflection. "The place is packed. And Mr. Ranveer… he's actually very eye-catching today."
Madeline laughed softly. "Are you eyeing him?"
Elara hesitated. "Mmh… I don't know. I just feel something strange when our eyes meet. Different." She sighed, drying her hands. "You know like when you want to see someone more often than usual, be close… all that stupid stuff?"
The door creaked open. In the mirror, a tall figure appeared behind her. Her heart skipped. Maxwell Ranveer.
"Elara?" Madeline's voice echoed from the phone.
"It's actually different," Maxwell said, stepping closer, his voice low and deliberate.
Elara froze, nearly choking. "Mr. Ranveer!"
"What are you doing in the men's private area?" he asked smoothly, as though amused by her mistake.
Her hand fumbled for the phone, cutting off Madeline's shocked shouting. "is that… Mr. Ranveer? Gal…"
"I must have taken the wrong turn. I was so pressed…" Her words trailed as his presence filled the room, equal parts unsettling and magnetic.
"You're right," he said, his gaze locked on hers. "It's different. And I want you."
Her breath caught. "What? Sir—I mean, Mr. Ranveer!"
"Call me Maxwell." His lips curved into a wicked smile. "You stole my first kiss… my first time. Or should I tell the media you raped me?"
Her face flushed with indignation. "Raped you? You came into my room that night. You know exactly what happened. In fact, you did rape me and I should be the one making the threat."
"Oh?" His smile deepened. "So, it was you."
Realization struck like a slap. "It was a trap?" Elara almost choked. "I didn't know you had tricks down your sleeves you son of a …"
He stepped closer, and she leaned back against the sink, heart racing. "Don't say that," he murmured, his face dangerously near. For a moment, his lips hovered over hers, his hands brushing around her waist. Heat pooled inside her, but she fought it back.
"This is unprofessional, Max," she whispered.
"Max sounds good," he said, eyes shining dangerously. "You don't work for me. I don't have to be professional." He tapped the sink behind her, then stepped away with deliberate calm. "Miss Grants, I'll have to know more about you."
"I bet you've done your research already," she snapped, grabbing her bag.
"I have," he admitted, washing his hands, smirk lingering. "But the kind of information I want can't be found online."
"You're being evil," Elara hissed. "You came to me, did me dirty. If I had known the man that night was stinking rich, I'd have sued you."
"You still can," he said, tracing her lips with one fingertip. She stiffened. "Only now the world will know what's between us."
"What happened was an accident!" she fired back. "You walked into the wrong room. Hold yourself responsible. And for the record, there is no us!"
"I will," Maxwell said calmly. "I'll marry you. After all, I was your first."
Her eyes widened. "You're a pervert, Mr. Ranveer."
Footsteps echoed outside. Without thinking, Elara slipped into a stall. Maxwell walked out, composed as ever. When she emerged minutes later, he was gone—but the faint curve of his lips as she rejoined the crowd told her everything.
...
By evening, the event had wound down. Since it was the weekend, Elara decided to stay at the hotel rather than return home. She texted Madeline, then went to collect her room key.
"so, you're not going to tell me about Mr. Ranveer?" Madeline asked.
Elara reduced the phone volume and coughed. "Maddie, it doesn't look good for me, that's all you need to know for now."
"come on…" Madeline coaxed.
But fate played its cruel trick—Maxwell was already at the desk. She froze, torn between retreat and pretense. She directly cut off the receiver and slid her phone in the pocket. To avoid suspicion, she forced herself to stand beside him.
"We should finish our conversation," he murmured, voice brushing against her ear. "I know you won't come to my room. So, I'll come to yours."
Elara nearly choked, glaring at him. How could the nation's most admired business lord be so shameless?
The receptionist handed her the key. Maxwell's sharp eyes flicked to the number before she could hide it.
Before she could escape, Bianca arrived, glowing with post-event triumph.
"It was such a great day! Let's grab drinks before we rest," she said brightly, sliding close to him.
"I'll pass," Maxwell replied coolly.
"Honey, what's going on? You've been off since you arrived." Bianca's voice softened. "And where did you go for those fifteen minutes? Are you avoiding me?"
"Are you stalking me now?" His tone was cutting.
"No! I swear I'm not. I'm just… concerned." She reached for him. "Max, did I do something wrong?"
"You're so nagging, Bianca," he muttered, shaking his head.
Her face fell. "What? Where is this coming from? I love you, Max. I just care."
"It's been a long day," he said, ending the conversation as he walked away.
Bianca stood frozen until her brother Edward appeared.
"Bianca," Edward said firmly, "he's a busy man. Business isn't child's play. Give him space. Come on—let's get a drink. Shake it off. You're a diva."
Her lips curved faintly, though her eyes still lingered after Maxwell's retreating figure. She finally allowed Edward to lead her away.
Upstairs, Elara slipped into a flowing evening gown, its silk clinging to every line of her body. She had barely adjusted the straps when a knock came at the door.
"Room service."
Her pulse quickened.