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All Chapters of Trapped in the CEO's Spotlight: Chapter 1 - Chapter 3
3 Chapters
1.
MINA POV“He’s here again,” trills Jules, her voice a teasing sing-song over a dozen sets of headphones buzzing away around me. They only stress me out, I’ve never bothered with them before a performance. “What? Who?” “That dark, handsome, definitely Russian-looking guy?”Clicking the roof of my mouth I move the heavy black curtain out of Jules’s hand a couple of inches higher. She’s right. There he is.“Oh, I don't recognise him.”Jules doesn’t need to know everything.The dark-haired, forever serious Gurav is halfway through his piece, a demanding Chopin sonata. The audience is transfixed. Except for that stranger, subtly tapping away on his cellphone. A suit-wearing, tall, dangerously attractive man. A circle of seats around him are empty, highlighting him like a spotlight. A predator, hindered by the cage of a zoo.Jules nudged me, her blue eyes bright and quick. “Yummy!”How do I confess this is the man whose gaze almost made me fumble my last two performances? This has to be an
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“Come on! They’re all in here! I think Gurav will seem a lot hotter now he’s a competition winner,” Jules babbled, leading my tipsy ass down the street. Ouch. “I don’t want to see all those guys-”“Stop worrying about today! Start planning for LA! And show this dress a good time, it’s waited way too long to get some eyes on it,” gesturing with one long talon of a nail downwards. My cherry-red hair is a mass of tangled, glossy waves. It has long, split navy blue sleeves, leading up to a high necked, floating, top. But its the way it ends just below my ass that makes it a winner tonight. My long, toned legs are on full display and the jeweled sandals are perfection.Even so, whilst alcohol makes me overthink, it only makes Jules louder. Gilded wasn’t a bar for poverty-riddled students. And we’d already split a bottle of wine at our first dark and cozy bar“It’s not a good idea… ”“It is tonight. Come on, live a little!”“I live plenty. I can show you my bank balance if you don’t belie
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“Who the fuck calls you in on a Saturday?” Jules had slurred from her bedroom as I steamed in to take back my black skinny jeans and turtleneck jumper from her wardrobe. Dressed in only a black vest and thong, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before.“Professor Brindle. Email, text and voicemail,” struggling to get my leg into the tight material. “Who the fuck steals a turtleneck? What’s wrong with my nice dresses?”“I was cosplaying as a nerd, pretending to be a real journalist,” Jules mocks, groaning as a cushion lands on her face. I flop onto her bed, laughing at her hungover misery, whilst tugging the tight material up my calves. My encounter with Mr Russia saw me tucked up in bed for midnight. Reduced to a shit Cinderella. Not that I’m chasing some Prince Charming moment. It was just…different.So there were no stolen kisses or electric dances. Last night ended the right way, rereading Columbia’s offer email and thanking every star in the sky. Wondering when I should ring Granny and
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