Adalia
I stood in front of the building, feeling dizzy from its intimidating height and sophisticated design. My fingers grazed the soft fabric of my dress, and a sudden sense of displacement came over me. The urge to give Addy and my brother an earful was suddenly prominent. Yes, seeing Zayn was my idea, but being coerced into a dress that made me feel like an escort was not part of the plan. I was in a tan, armless ribbed knit dress that, while not revealing, seemed a bit excessive when paired with my stilettos.
Yesterday, after our dinner with Zayn's friends, we exchanged numbers and said our goodbyes. I then asked Addy to take me back to my brother's house, with the excuse that I left my car there. I thought it would have been a good way to escape her, but who knew that my traitorous brother would welcome Addy into the house and offer for her to stay the night? Worse still he joined her in playing "Let's dress up Adalia" all night. And that is how I ended up here, standing in front of Zayn's company two hours before my work shift started.
Rubbing my hands on the dress, I clenched my palm, took a breath, then exhaled sharply. "Okay, I can do this." Joining the bustling crowd, I stepped into the revolving door and followed the smooth rotation until I was inside the building.
I felt the need to take in another sharp breath, as the atmosphere of this place was as refined as the building's design.
Several White pendant lights and chandeliers hung low from the ceiling. There were tasteful ottoman chairs settled against the wall. A wavy wood-like wall, illuminated by golden lights accentuated the receptionist's desk. On that same wall, was a line art of a beast of some sort. It bore a resemblance to a wolf, but I couldn't be sure. Then I realized I had seen that same logo on Zayn's business card and on some of his hotels.
I was both intimidated and impressed by the design.
On getting closer to the receptionist's desk, I could see the pale-skinned, blond receptionist having a conversation with a black-haired lady, dressed in suit pants, a white button-up shirt, and flats. Now that I was within earshot, I could pick up snippets of the receptionist's conversation with the lady.
"...said no, you can't see Mr. Warren and that's final." The receptionist snapped.
Wow, feisty.
The poor lady on the receiving end of the receptionist's snipe dropped a bunch of files on the desk. "But I have some proposition and offer for Mr. Warren," she protested.
The receptionist gave the file a quick glance and unexpectedly broke into laughter. She covered her red-tinted lips, with equally matching red nails, and squinted her eyes in laughter.
Both I and the black-haired lady looked at her in astonishment. I don't think the black-haired lady told her a joke that prompted much laughter.
The receptionist snorted a little, before bringing herself back to composure. She smoothed her slender fingers over her blond, tightly bunned hair, then tilted her head upwards so that her prominent cheekbones displayed her icy features. "I'm sorry ma'am, Mr. Warren doesn't accept propositions from just anybody. In fact, he almost doesn't accept propositions at all. He usually seeks out people he wants to do business with by himself."
My heart thumped at the receptionist's words. Luke's company, Carver's Studios, was a well-known company and Zayn also seemed to know Luke which would be understandable as to why Zayn came to us for business. But why did he request me specifically? It's odd. I may do a good job at designing, but other people are definitely more suited to a man of Zayn's caliber. Yet he came to find me first.
I was lost in thought when I heard a loud thump. I jolted and returned my attention to the secretary and the lady. The lady appeared to have smacked her files on the table as they flew all over the secretary's desk. It seemed like she didn't intend for the files to scatter around in her fit of rage as she hurriedly gathered the files back into her hands, despite the secretary watching her with an amused expression.
"Fine." The lady spat, before giving the receptionist one last glare and stomping out.
"Next." The secretary announced curtly, returning her gaze to her computer screen.
I puffed out my cheeks, held my breath, and then puffed it out. I thought my little exercise would help my nerves, but nothing worked. Instead, I just grew more fidgety. That lady just now was dressed professionally and even came here for professional reasons, and still got rejected. I on the other hand just came here because I'm Zayn-crazy, while looking a little out of place.
I willed my shaky feet to move as I got to the front of the desk.
"If you're also here to see Mr. Warren, then I'm sorry the answer is no." The secretary declared, typing furiously on her computer. Her pale skin looked even icier under the white lights.
She's sort of scary.
"No I... actually yes I did come to see Zayn, but I'm a friend of his," I didn't get to finish my sentence, as the secretary caught a sharp breath and instantly sprang to her feet, knocking down her pen holder in the process. Her shaky hands carelessly darted around in an attempt to catch all the pens.
"Oh my gosh, Mr. Warren I'm so sorry. No, I mean good morning—" she rambled as she organized the pen back into its container, and quickly ran her hands over her blue turtle neck, all the while keeping her head down.
Okay...what? "So is that a yes to seeing Zayn?" I asked, taken aback by her reaction.
Her head sprang up, and her face immediately contoured into a confused expression. Her brown eyes swirled in stupor as they openly scrutinized me. "You aren't Mr. Warren," she commented, almost sounding her words like a question.
"Um, no I'm not," I mean, I'm not a six-foot, three-inch walking hunk of a sex god with beautiful blue eyes, a magnificent body, and a perfectly sculpted face. I internally commented. "But can you point me to where the actual Zayn is?" I requested, uncertain she was even going to answer me. I mean look at how she butchered the last lady.
To my surprise, the receptionist just pointed to the top of an escalator that was several steps away from her desk, while still staring at me in puzzlement. "take the escalator up then take the elevator to your right to the top floor there you'll see Mr. Warren's office,"
"Oh! Thank you," I said relieved, but still confused.
Making my way to the escalator, I got on it, then turned around to look at the secretary, still puzzled by her reaction. There was now a dark-skinned employee at the desk with her, both she and the secretary were staring at me with curious-filled eyes while whispering amongst themselves.
The walls here must carry a lot of vibrations or those two were just bad at whispering, because I could hear everything they were saying.
"Who is that?!" The dark-skinned employee yelled in a whisper.
"I don't know but she's practically dripping in his majesty's scent. For a second I even thought it was his majesty himself." The secretary replied.
"Right, and her aura is insane. It's almost on par with the Lycans." The other girl added.
"But how can that be? She's human right?"
"Right. Wait, you don't think the rumor that his majesty found his Erasthai is true right? And that is her in the actual flesh?"
I furrowed my eyebrows at their words. There it was again—that Earasthai word. I need to look that up.
The secretary opened her mouth to speak, but the other lady interrupted. "Um, why is she staring at us like that? Can she hear us?"
I didn't get to hear the secretary's reply as the escalator had reached the top and I had to hop off. I could barely hear them anymore.
The big clock on the wall said it was almost eight o'clock. Slight panic struck me, pushing the conversation I just heard to the back of my head. I need to hurry up before my nine o'clock shift. With that thought in mind, I hurried into the elevator.
While Inside the elevator, I got stares from literally everyone. They all just openly gaped at me, like I was fascinating, but also like they were wary of me. The tension in the air was palpable, and it was like no one dared to breathe. The moment the elevator got to their floor, they would all scamper out like they were in a hurry.
Do I look bad? Or was it that I smelled bad? I showered and even sprayed some perfume. It's the same perfume I've always used so I don't think it should smell bad.
Soon after the elevator was empty and I was the only one left going beyond the fifth floor. The elevator then stopped at the seventh floor which was also the last floor. It dinged open and I stepped out into the lobby that was warmed with amber lights and oak wood flooring.
My heart thumped as I could smell Zayn's scent all over this floor. This was his office alright.
I was now nervous more than ever. Exciting was pumping in my veins at the thought of seeing Zayn, but anxiety was twisting in my stomach. What if he gets angry that I came to see him? What if he...what if he rejected me? For a moment I wanted to race back into the elevator and get the hell out of here. But the excitement of seeing Zayn was stopping me. It was like my body was pulling me to him.
I wanted to see him. I needed to see him.
I took in sharp breaths and puffed them out in a breathing exercise. Around the corner from the elevator was another receptionist's desk. There a slender lady with chin-length brown hair sat. She was languidly scrolling through her fun with a smile on her face.
Clenching my fist, I took slow steps toward the receptionist's desk. Hopefully, she's nicer than the first one.
The moment the receptionist caught sight of me, she sprang up, knocking her chair over. "H-hello!" She stammered out, bowing her head.
"Um, hello?" I replied with a raised brow. Why was everyone here so fidgety and scared? Is Zayn your typical mean CEO? But I don't think so. He's just so...nice. To me at least. "I'm here to see Zayn."
She raised her head to give me a little glance, before returning her gaze back to the floor. "Well ma'am his majesty— no sorry Mr. Zayn isn't in right now."
I furrowed my brows at her. If he wasn't in, then why didn't the secretary from downstairs just let me know from the start? "Is he not in or did he ask you to turn me away if I come here," I said in more of a statement than a question.
"No ma'am the boss really isn't in today," she answered shakily, "at least I don't think so."
"If that was the case, the secretary could have just said so from the start," I commented more to myself than to her.
"I'm so sorry! Please forgive us," she whimpered.
"No, it's fine I'm not angry." I reached out a hand to reassure her, but she just shrunk back. Her tightly clenched eyes caused me to retract my hands.
After noticing me take a step back, the girl seemed to regain her composure. She adjusted her feet so that she was standing straight again. "Truth be told, we never have an idea of when Mr. Warren is in. Sometimes we see him, and sometimes we don't. On most occasions, he travels for several years before coming back here again," She sheepishly browsed through her computer, before continuing, "It seems like he's out of the country at the moment."
"He's currently out of the country?!" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
The girl bowed her head deeper as she started to tremble again; a state that also reflected my voice. "Do you know when he'll be back then?"
"I have no clue. His majesty— I mean Mr. Warren never has a regular time. He's always gone for at least a year or more."
My heart sank and my head began to throb. I won't see Zayn for over a year or more. Impossible. Truly impossible. My heart won't take that. With shaky feet and trembling hands, I willed myself into the elevator, walked past several stares and whispers, and then out of the company and into my car. The rest was a blur from there.