Layla
By 5:45 PM, I was already standing outside The Argent Hotel, staring up at the building like a lost tourist. The city hummed around me, but here, in the shadow of this behemoth, everything felt hushed, almost reverent.
It was massive. Not just big, but overwhelmingly so. Sleek, glassy, and glowing with golden lights that seemed to emanate from its very core, it looked like the kind of place that only existed in movies, a playground for the impossibly wealthy. Expensive cars rolled in every few seconds—shiny black sedans and luxury limos so pristine they reflected the twilight like polished mirrors. The doormen, immaculate in their dark uniforms, barely blinked an eye, their faces impassive as they opened doors to reveal glimpses of designer clothes and knowing smiles.
I glanced down at my phone, the screen a small, familiar rectangle in my trembling hand. Naomi had messaged me an hour ago, a simple, blunt instruction that echoed in my mind: "Ballroom entrance. Staff training starts at 6. Don't be late." Don't be late. The words were a stark reminder of the thin ice I walked on.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I smoothed down the satin fabric of my dress, the cool material a strange comfort against my skin. I hugged my thin coat tighter, as if it could somehow shield me from the grandeur, and walked in through the side entrance, a hidden door that felt like a secret portal to another world.
The backstage hallway buzzed with an electric energy, a controlled chaos that felt entirely alien to me. Waiters in crisp white shirts, caterers balancing trays with impossible grace, bartenders meticulously polishing glasses, and security personnel, their expressions watchful and alert, rushed around like bees in a hive. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, expensive perfume, and the faint, sweet promise of champagne. I clutched my ID badge, its plastic cool against my clammy palm, and stood quietly, a small, insignificant shadow against the bustling backdrop, until someone, a harried-looking man with a headset, called out, "Temporary staff, over here!"
A sharp-faced woman in a pristine black suit, a formidable presence with a clipboard clutched firmly in her hand, looked us over, her gaze sweeping across our nervous faces. About six of us stood awkwardly in a line, a ragtag group of misfits, clearly the newbies.
"I'm Claudia, your floor supervisor tonight," she said briskly, her voice cutting through the din with surprising authority. "Listen carefully, because I won't repeat myself. You're here to serve drinks, collect glasses, smile, and stay invisible. You are here to blend into the background, to anticipate needs, not to be seen or heard more than absolutely necessary. No chatting with the guests unless spoken to directly. No photos. Absolutely no drama. You are not here to impress anyone. You are here to serve. Understood?"
We all nodded quickly, a collective bob of heads, our voices collectively mumbling, "Yes, ma'am." The unspoken threat in her tone hung heavy in the air.
Claudia walked down the line, a meticulous general inspecting her troops, straightening someone's collar, tugging someone's sleeve, her keen eyes missing nothing. When she got to me, she paused, her gaze lingering for a beat longer than on the others, a flicker of assessment in her sharp eyes. "First time?" she asked, her voice softer, almost a murmur, but still piercing.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "Yes, ma'am," I managed, my voice barely a whisper.
Her eyes lingered on me a beat longer, a strange, almost curious intensity in them. Then, with a curt nod, she adjusted my name tag, the small gesture surprisingly gentle. "Stay close to Naomi. She knows the ropes."
I looked over and saw Naomi, positioned behind a long, gleaming bar, flash me a quick, reassuring wink. A wave of immense relief, warm and unexpected, flooded my chest, momentarily easing the tight knot of anxiety. At least I wouldn't be completely adrift.
By 6:30 PM, we were stationed in our positions, the air thrumming with anticipation. Soft jazz music, smooth and sophisticated, drifted from the open doors of the ballroom, a siren song beckoning us forward. The grand chandeliers overhead, enormous crystal creations, sparkled with a dazzling brilliance, casting a warm, inviting glow over everything. Tables draped in crisp white linen were adorned with artful arrangements of white roses, their petals unfurling in delicate perfection. Polished silver gleamed under the lights, and glass champagne flutes, tall and elegant, were arranged like crystal towers, waiting to be filled.
"You okay?" Naomi whispered, her voice low, as she handed me a small, silver tray with two pre-filled glasses of what looked like sparkling water. My first task.
"No," I whispered back, my voice tight with nerves. "I feel like I'm about to pass out. My hands are shaking."
She grinned, a flash of white in the dim light. "Good. That means you won't spill anything. Adrenaline makes you steadier than you think."
We both giggled, a small, shared moment of levity, and the sound, soft and entirely out of place in this grand setting, surprisingly calmed my nerves.
Suddenly, the music shifted. The languid jazz picked up tempo, becoming more vibrant, more insistent.
Claudia's sharp, clear voice came through the earpiece in my ear, startling me. "Guests are arriving. Show time. Everyone in position."
And just like that, with a barely perceptible sigh, the massive, ornate ballroom doors began to open, slowly at first, then wider, revealing a dazzling tableau within.
And I walked straight into the night that would change my life.
I moved between the glittering crowd, a silent shadow, balancing the silver tray as if it were an extension of my arm. The two glasses of sparkling water seemed impossibly light, yet I felt every tremor of my hand. For someone who had only held a wine glass twice in her entire life, both times at a distant relative's wedding, I was surprisingly steady, my movements surprisingly fluid. It was as if a part of me, dormant until now, had awakened to this new, demanding rhythm.
Naomi caught my eye once, her dark gaze finding mine from behind the bar, and gave me a small thumbs-up, a silent acknowledgment of my unexpected composure.
I returned a tight smile, my lips barely moving. Every muscle in my face felt stretched, held in a polite, neutral expression.
The ballroom was unlike anything I had ever seen, or even imagined. Gold-accented walls shimmered under the chandeliers, reflecting the soft light in a thousand tiny gleams. The floor-length crystal chandeliers, suspended from the impossibly high ceiling, dripped with opulence, each facet catching the light and scattering it like fairy dust. A string quartet played soft, melodious jazz near a grand, sweeping staircase, their music weaving through the air, adding another layer to the dreamlike atmosphere. The guests shimmered just as much as the décor—men in impeccably tailored tuxedos, their watches flashing discreetly, and women in elegant gowns that flowed like liquid jewels, adorned with diamonds that caught the light like stars, each one a miniature galaxy.
And the faces.
I froze for a split second, my breath catching in my throat, when I saw a woman I knew I'd only ever seen on the cover of glossy magazines, Natalie Reese, the impossibly glamorous owner of a major beauty brand, her perfect smile radiating confidence, laughing beside a tech billionaire whose profile I had once, in another life, written a meticulous report on for a Business 201 class. Their world was so far removed from mine it felt like peering into another dimension.
I blinked, forcing myself to break the spell, and kept walking, offering drinks with a polite, almost practiced smile. They barely looked at me, their eyes sweeping past as if I were part of the furniture, a phantom in the background. My invisibility was my greatest asset.
Still… this world felt like a dream I wasn't supposed to be part of. Like I'd slipped through a golden crack in the glass, a tiny flaw in the perfect, impenetrable barrier that separated my reality from theirs.
The chatter, a constant hum of polite conversation and laughter, dimmed suddenly, almost as if someone had turned down a hidden volume dial.
Then, it rose again, higher, sharper. Curious. A collective intake of breath.
A palpable wave of energy shifted through the room, like a ripple across a still pond. Heads turned almost in unison, a slow, deliberate pivot. Some guests subtly adjusted their posture, their shoulders straightening, their expressions becoming more composed. A few women lifted their chins, suddenly more alert, their eyes searching the room with an almost predatory interest.
Someone important had arrived. Someone whose presence commanded attention even in a room full of powerful individuals.
But I had a job to do. My inner voice, Claudia's voice, reminded me of my purpose: invisible, efficient, unwavering.
I pivoted quickly and headed back through the staff hallway, my heart pounding for no reason I could explain, a strange premonition prickling at the back of my neck. Claudia's voice echoed in my ear again, sharp and urgent.
"All staff on alert. Toast in ten minutes. Rotate trays now, faster, move it!"
I reached the back prep area where Naomi was already handing off fresh trays, her movements quick and practiced.
She glanced at me, her brow furrowed in a moment of shared intensity. "You good?"
"Yeah. I think so," I murmured, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
"Take this one." She handed me a tray laden with sparkling champagne glasses. Each flute, thin and delicate, caught the warm light from the overhead fixtures and glittered like spun gold, promising celebration.
I exhaled, a silent breath of anticipation, and nodded, balancing it carefully, the weight surprisingly substantial.
Back into the ballroom.
I moved slower this time, more aware of the weight I carried not just the tray, but the unspoken expectations, the fragility of my position, and the eyes I might walk past. Every step felt deliberate, every breath a conscious effort. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared me for him.
Not the weight of the tray.
Not the blinding shimmer of the chandeliers.
Not the quiet voice in my head screaming turn around just before everything shifted again, before the air itself seemed to crackle with an undeniable presence.
And I didn't even know…
That the man everyone had just turned to look at,
The man who seemed to command the very air around him
Was about to change the entire course of my life.