Birthday Party

5 years later

I took a deep breath. Trying to calm myself down. This is my eighth day working here. The door bearing the words 'President Director' seemed to force my heart to pump faster.

Not knowing what Mr. Witson was going to discuss, I was summoned to his room right after the lunch hour was over. What was even more thrilling was that I was only a substitute assistant, while the previous assistant was on maternity leave. Yes, probably about a whole year according to my contract.

"Come in!" The baritone voice invited me to open the glass door.

I entered with full nervousness. Because Mr. Witson is such a cold and untouchable person. His eyes were currently staring at me sharply, I felt like my entire body was being skinned just by that sense of sight.

"Sit down." I smiled awkwardly as soon as I noticed his somewhat softened voice.

"What's wrong, Si-"

Ah. I thinned my lips, not having finished my sentence but Mr. Witson had already cut it off.

"What's my schedule tomorrow?"

"You have an important meeting with Mr. Degraxi tomorrow, 8 am at the Bulgari Hotel Milano, sir."

"Cancel it," he said.

"And you get ready for tomorrow. Accompany me to Barcelano."

"No refusal!" he said emphatically.

My lips snapped shut as soon as Mr. Witson raised his hand. Is he must be kidding me? Accompany him to Barcelano? What for? But I couldn't possibly say no. This was clearly a superior order. Or maybe I could call it coercion?

I don't know, it doesn't make sense. A boss canceling an important meeting just because he's going to another country for a reason I don't even know. 

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"What are we here for, sir?" I asked when Mr. Witson and I finally arrived at the hotel in the middle of Barcelona.

Let's be honest. All night long I'd been wracked with questions lodged in my brain. Even after receiving an urgent call from Mr. Witson, it felt like my head was heating up. He'd asked me to bring a red dress which, unfortunately, there was only one in my wardrobe, so I had no choice but to bring a dress that could be considered sexy.

"Don't you have any questions other than asking the same thing over and over again?"

"Of course, sir. At least I need to know what I'm there for."

"Fine. Tonight we are going to Mr. Colin's birthday party. And of course you will be my partner."

"Ah. Yes. Your hotel room is on the top floor. If there is any need, you can call me or come to my room on the 4th floor. Lion will escort you to your room."

I still couldn't figure it out. How could I be bossed around at his whim just because he was a superior. He was indeed nine years older than me, but he was far too authoritarian.

How could Sonya, his first assistant, be so capable of working for him for five years? I felt like running back to London. If only the bitter past didn't haunt me every time I took a breath, I'd probably be in my room right now. In Dad and Mom's arms.

"Come, Miss." Lion let me step into the elevator first.

Before the elevator doors completely closed. I can see Mr. Witson waving his hand. Not to me, let alone Lion. Rather, it was to someone right behind him. I wanted to find out who, but the other big men seemed to block the person from my sight. Never mind. It's not that important, right?

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I sighed looking at myself in the mirror. The long red dress I was wearing really exposed my shoulders. Fortunately, the chest is not so low. So I just need to let my hair down to partially cover my shoulders.

A knock on the door from outside followed by a heavy voice makes me quickly put the final touch, applying peach red lipstick on my lips. I opened the door to find Lion waiting with his back to me.

"Is Mr. Witson waiting?"

"Yes, Miss."

"I don't like being called that. Just call me Bridgette."

"But this is an order, Miss."

I growled in annoyance.

"Whose orders?"

"My orders." A baritone voice followed my earlier question. Who else if not Mr. Witson the owner. I rolled my eyeballs lazily, wasn't my current position like the pretty girls in the fictional world? Let's call it that.

"Beautiful." A compliment escapes the thin lips of a mature man whose aura is so domineering. Oh. Should I be happy? Of course not. Men like that have certainly made it a habit of complimenting the women out there, including me.

"Xelle will definitely be mesmerized," he murmured. Whether I realized it or not, I heard it clearly.

"Xelle?"

"Who is Xelle, sir?" I asked. Clarifying the previous question.

"No one. Come on!"

My hand was forcefully pulled away. Even so, I was still thinking about what Mr. Witson had said earlier. Xelle's name seemed familiar to me. But who? My head was still struggling so deeply that I didn't realize it. We were already downstairs. The place where Mr. Colin's birthday was being celebrated.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying the party. Mr. Colin himself who owns the event was busy with some of his business colleagues perhaps. Don't ask me where Mr. Witson is. He was still standing next to me, looking for someone. I myself felt that someone else had been watching me all this time. But when I tried to catch that person off guard. My attempts always failed. Either the man beside me suddenly asked me to talk. Or some waiter who came to offer us a few glasses of wine.

"Sir, don't you feel like someone is watching us?"

"Who would notice us?" he asked nonchalantly. I shook my head no.

"Maybe you're just not used to being in a place like this," he replied as he sipped the wine in his hand.

I wasn't the one who wasn't used to being in a place like this. But it seemed like someone was stalking me. I looked left and right, everything seemed normal. Some people seemed to be busy with their business, some were talking to each other.

Mr. Witson and I were in the middle of the party crowd for quite a while. Finally, the host announced the opening of the main event, the cutting of the cake. Mr. Colin was seen giving the first piece of cake to his parents. Then followed by his girlfriend. Everyone clapped and cheered loudly. I also felt the euphoria of this moment. They are indeed a lovely couple, that's what people might think.