SARAYA’S POV:
As Arlan’s words, “Someone has seen us,” pierced the air, my reverie shattered, and reality slapped me back into awareness. The flutter in my chest, the thrill of our secret moment, instantly disappeared, replaced by a chilling dread. My face twisted with worry, my mind racing with the dreadful possibilities.
What if it was my dad, my stepmom, or worse still, Isla? Getting in trouble was the least of my concerns now, but dragging Arlan into the mess was never part of the plan.
I swiftly smoothed my dress, my fingers tremble slightly. I hope he doesn’t notice. “I’ll see you inside,” I whispered.
Our eyes locked for a fleeting moment, and I saw the mirrored concern etched on Arlan’s face.
With a deep breath, I watched as Arlan vanished into the sea of guests, his broad shoulders slice through the crowd. I gave him a few minutes’ head start before following, my heels clicking on the marble floor.
As I entered back into the party, the paparazzi mobbed towards me, holding out their camera and flashing towards me with eager faces.
“How do you feel suddenly being the daughter of a billionaire, Miss Saraya?” “What are your plans…”
I stopped listening to their bombing questions. My gaze swept the room, searching for any sign of suspicion or prying eyes. I caught sight of my father descending the stairs, storming towards Arlan with his fists clenched to his sides.
It was father? The thoughts gnawed at my insides. My body tensed up as I watched him say something to Arlan and then, they both head upstairs.
“If you’d excuse me,” I say, flashing a fake smile and forcing myself through.
I could worry about the news later. But right now, my heartbeat quickened at the thought of losing Arlan too soon.
It’d be defeating for me to lose my first ever romance with an older guy- hot older guy-so abruptly without any…adventure.
My soul badly ached for some steamy adventure. I needed it as bad as one would need coffee to starts one’s day-except I need mine as a relief from the Newman’s storm brewing slowly, waiting for me to flop.
I stood by the foot of the stairs, glancing up occasionally to catch a glimpse of Arlan or my father, and flashing fake smiles at a woman named…what was her name again?
Damnit! My thoughts are occupied with worry that I am unable to grasp a name. I know for sure it begins with a C. Claudia? Or Candice?
But, I see Arlan alighting the stairs now. I shoot him a what-happened-in-there? Look. He responds with a curt nod and walk past me to the podium, gracefully grabbing a glass of wine off a waiter’s tray. How sleek!
My heart did a double flip watching his tread up the iron-wrought steps. His strides were firms and his shoulders rolled up slightly tensed.
He cleared his throat into the microphone. “Beautiful ladies and Grinch gents,” He pause to let the erupted laughter die down.
I love most that he had a way of making insults sound naturally pleasing to the ears. For an older guy, his good sense of humor made him even more attractive.
He fixed his gaze on me, my bowels moved gazing back into his eyes. “To the newest known member of the Newman,” he says, raising his glass up to toast. “Cheers to being where you belong!”
The crowd erupted in a “cheers”. My stomach did a cartwheel, a mix of curiosity and surprise as he winked at me before taking a sip from the glass.
My father clapped first, beaming too cheerfully. What exactly had happened between those two?
Arlan climbed down from the stage and strode purposefully to me. “We’re safe,” he whispers, standing to my left on the side.
“Fortunately it was Evan who caught me, with a woman, and called Alex’s attention. Thankfully Alex doesn’t know it was you, he was only displeased I’d ruin your mood, so we’re good.” He adds.
From my hindsight I see him take the glass to his lips for some more drink. I whirl my head sideways to look at him.
“So, it’s a habit?” I ask.
He coughed, choking on some of the wine caught up in his throat.
“What-what do you mean?” He chokes out.
“You know exactly what I mean.” It would be a bummer if my guess is right, but somewhat exciting to know he’s experienced. Not boring at all.
“No, it’s not.” He growls, clearing his throat.
The sudden firmness in his voice makes me want to believe him. I don’t.
*. *.*.
I yawned loudly as I sunk into my bed. My father, bless his heart, had seen my tired face couldn’t hold on top long and offered to thank the rest of the guests as they left.
To be honest, my excitement died after Arlan left the party in a hurry first. He’d even forgotten his tag along in the rush.
I roll to my side. My head titled upwards, facing the loads of gifts stacking up at one side of the room.
The loud swinging of my bedroom door jerks me up to sit. Evan walks in angrily, gritting his teeth.
I hadn’t locked my door. It’s an old habit I’m starting to consider changing since, knocking, might be a foreign word around here. Back at my home in the states, I never had to lock my door. Any door. Whoever wanted entry would knock and wait for a response first.
“Ever heard of knocking, Evan?” I ask softly. It’d be mean to yell at a mentally disordered person, even though his actions irritated me greatly. I could’ve been naked.
Evan’s lips fumbled like he was desperately trying to say something that seemed too hard to say.
“If you have nothing to say-”
“You!” he blurts out. His eyes are tensed and his body too. I try to understand him. What did he mean me?
“Are you still mad I didn’t come back to play with you?” I ask. It was cute seeing him throw a fit.
“You!” He blurts out more fiercely than the first. His hands moved up, unclenching his fingers from a fist, he pointed at the window and blurts out again. “You!”
I gasp at the immediate realization to what he desperately wanted to say. But how could he be so sure I was the woman at the window?
He might not be so sound but… No, I should be worried about if he’s told anyone except father. No one else has to know.