EIRA'S POV
The moment I heard Peter's words, it felt as though the ground had vanished beneath my feet.
He knew.
He knew about the DNA test.
But how?
My mind raced, desperately searching for answers that refused to come. A suffocating dread coiled around my chest, tightening with every passing second until drawing a proper breath became almost impossible.
Claira.
Just the thought of her sent another wave of panic crashing through me.
If Peter knew about the report, then Claira was in danger.
Her baby was in danger.
Cold tears slipped down my cheeks. My hands trembled uncontrollably, and for several agonising seconds, I remained rooted to the spot, unable to process what I'd just heard.
Then I clenched my jaw.
No.
I couldn't fall apart now.
Wiping my tears with the back of my hand, I forced myself to straighten.
I wasn't going to let that monster hurt her.
Not Claira.
Not her baby.
Not while I could still do something to stop him.
I needed to warn Adrian.
The problem?
Adrian Blake had an extraordinary talent for ignoring everything I said.
Still, I had to try.
The engagement party was tomorrow evening, and somehow, I needed to get inside.
I just had no idea how.
Until—
"Are you stupid?! Is this the time to come? Move those supplies to the canteen immediately!"
A furious shout rang through the corridor.
I turned.
The canteen manager was practically exploding at a worker standing in front of him.
My gaze shifted towards the supplies.
Then towards the manager.
And suddenly—
An idea struck me.
A rather ridiculous one.
But an idea nonetheless.
A slow smile crept across my face.
Well...
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
A few hours later, I barely recognised the girl staring back at me in the mirror.
The short black skirt felt far too revealing for my liking.
The heels were nothing short of torture devices disguised as footwear.
And the mask covering half my face was the only thing preventing me from having a complete nervous breakdown.
I adjusted it, examining my reflection from another angle.
At least nobody would recognise me.
Hopefully.
I swallowed and straightened my shoulders.
This was for Claira.
I could survive a little discomfort.
The hotel was already buzzing with activity when I arrived.
Workers hurried through the corridors carrying elaborate decorations, fresh flowers, and enormous trays laden with food.
The ballroom was being prepared for the evening, and the entire place seemed to be running on a mixture of excitement and absolute chaos.
Near the entrance, a middle-aged man with a thick moustache was gripping a waiter's collar.
His face was flushed with fury.
"If you make one more mistake, I'll throw you out myself!" he barked. "This is Mr. Peter Dawn's engagement party. Everything must be perfect. Now move!"
The poor waiter hurried away.
The remaining staff scattered in different directions.
And then—
His eyes landed on me.
"You."
I froze.
"Y-Yes, sir?"
"You're the new waitress?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then stop standing there and get to work. Guests are already arriving."
Before I could offer another word, he shoved a tray into my hands and pointed towards the ballroom.
"Go serve drinks."
I glanced nervously at the glasses.
Then at him.
"Yes, sir."
Wonderful.
My undercover mission had officially begun.
ADRIAN'S POV
"Claira. Let's go."
I'd already unbuckled my seat belt, but she remained motionless.
Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her fingers trembling against one another. Her face had lost nearly all its colour.
"Claira?"
She slowly turned towards me.
Fear clouded her eyes.
"Adrian... I'm scared."
Her voice cracked.
"What if he hurts my baby? What if something goes wrong? I don't want to do this anymore."
I studied her for a moment.
Then reached across the console and took her hand.
Her fingers were ice-cold.
"Look at me."
She hesitated before finally lifting her eyes to mine.
"Nothing is going to happen to you."
My voice remained firm.
"Nothing is going to happen to your child either."
Her lower lip trembled.
She still wasn't convinced.
I tightened my hold around her hand.
"I promise."
The silence stretched between us.
Finally, she gave a reluctant nod.
"Okay."
I pulled her into a brief embrace before stepping out and opening her door.
The moment we entered the hotel, the muffled sounds of music and conversation washed over us.
The ballroom was already crowded with students from college.
Elegant black and blue outfits filled the room, while decorative masks concealed half the faces around us.
Keeping Claira close, I guided her upstairs and stopped before a private room.
Once inside, I locked the door.
"You stay here."
She nodded.
"When it's time, I'll come get you myself. Don't open this door for anyone else."
"Okay."
I stepped outside and handed the spare key to a waiter I trusted.
My gaze settled on his face.
"If anything happens to her, I'll kill you."
The poor man nearly dropped the key.
Good.
Fear would keep him alert.
I turned and headed towards the ballroom.
But before I could take more than a few steps, a familiar hand landed on my shoulder.
Peter.
"Enjoying the party?" he asked with an irritating grin.
I turned towards him, forcing a smile.
"So, where's my gift?"
He chuckled.
"You'll get it soon."
I leaned slightly closer.
"And trust me, Peter. It's a gift you'll remember for the rest of your life."
His smile faltered for the briefest moment.
Interesting.
I straightened and walked away.
Then—
A familiar scent reached me.
My steps faltered.
My jaw tightened.
Impossible.
I turned my head slightly, drawing in another breath.
There was no mistaking it.
She was here.
EIRA'S POV
The ballroom was enormous.
And unbearably crowded.
I moved between the guests carrying drinks, pretending to be occupied with my work while discreetly scanning every corner for Claira.
People laughed.
Glasses clinked.
Music reverberated through the hall.
But I couldn't concentrate on any of it.
My eyes kept darting towards the entrances, the staircase, and every unfamiliar face.
Where was Claira?
Had Adrian brought her?
Was she safe?
I was so distracted that I nearly collided with another waiter.
"Careful!"
"Sorry!"
I quickly adjusted the tray and continued walking.
Then I saw him.
Adrian.
He was making his way directly towards me.
My stomach dropped.
Oh, no.
Not him.
Not here.
I immediately lowered my head and turned in the opposite direction, praying he hadn't recognised me.
Apparently, God wasn't particularly interested in helping me tonight.
A hand clamped around my arm.
Before I could react, I was pulled behind a massive marble sculpture.
My back struck the wall.
The tray rattled in my hands.
And suddenly, Adrian was standing dangerously close.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
His voice was low.
Quiet.
But the fury beneath it was unmistakable.
I swallowed.
"I came for Claira—"
"I told you to stay home."
His fingers tightened around my arm.
"Peter knows about the DNA test," I whispered urgently. "Claira isn't safe."
His jaw flexed.
"It doesn't matter."
My eyes widened.
"It does matter!"
"Eira."
One word.
A warning.
I fell silent, but my gaze remained fixed on his.
"You're leaving."
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then—
"No?"
"I won't leave Claira here."
His expression hardened.
"Peter is dangerous."
"Remember, I don't matter to you."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Something shifted in his expression.
Just for a fraction of a second.
His eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened as though he'd bitten back whatever he intended to say.
Then—
THUD.
His palm struck the wall beside my head.
I flinched violently.
The tray in my hands trembled, and one of the glasses rattled against another.
He leaned closer.
Too close.
His face was barely inches from mine.
I could feel the tension radiating from him, every rigid line of his body screaming with barely restrained fury.
My breath caught.
His gaze remained fixed on mine, unblinking and merciless.
For one suspended moment, the noise of the ballroom seemed to disappear.
There was only him.
And the unbearable silence between us.
Then, just as abruptly, he straightened.
His hand dropped.
Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
I remained against the wall, my pulse hammering wildly.
What the hell was wrong with that man?
ADRIAN'S POV
She was driving me insane.
Every instinct screamed at me to drag her out of that building myself.
And yet, somehow, she always managed to find another way to throw herself directly into danger.
I clenched my jaw.
What the hell was she thinking?
That ridiculous disguise wasn't going to protect her from anyone.
Not from Peter.
Not from the men wandering around this place.
And certainly not from me.
"Hey, man."
Peter appeared beside me again.
I dragged my attention away from the crowd.
"What?"
"Come have a drink."
I followed him towards the bar, my expression carefully composed.
The moment we sat down, a few voices from a nearby table caught my attention.
"Look at her."
"She's gorgeous."
"That skirt should be illegal."
The men burst into laughter.
My fingers tightened around the glass.
I didn't turn towards them immediately. I kept my gaze fixed ahead, taking a slow sip as though their conversation meant absolutely nothing to me.
But then another voice spoke.
"I'm taking her home tonight."
A low chuckle followed.
Something inside me went dangerously still.
I slowly lowered my glass.
My jaw tightened, and my fingers curled around its surface. For one brief moment, I considered how easily I could make that man regret opening his mouth.
I could cross the room.
Grab him by the throat.
And make sure he never looked in her direction again.
The thought came far too naturally.
I forced my hand to relax.
Not here.
Not in front of Peter.
Not over something as insignificant as a few drunken men running their mouths.
My gaze finally shifted towards the woman they were discussing.
Eira.
She was standing there, completely unaware of the attention she'd attracted, adjusting the tray in her hands as she moved between the guests.
The ridiculous skirt.
Those heels.
That mask.
I stared at her, irritation tightening every muscle in my body.
Had she lost her mind?
Did she have even the slightest understanding of the kind of men surrounding her?
Apparently not.
My fingers tapped once against the glass before I pushed it away.
I needed to get her out of here.
Now.
But I had already told her to leave, and she had refused.
Of course she had.
Stubborn, reckless girl.
I drew a slow breath, forcing the anger back beneath the carefully maintained expression on my face.
Losing control wasn't an option.
Especially not here.
I wasn't going to give Peter a reason to question my intentions, nor was I going to let a room full of idiots witness how badly she had managed to get under my skin.
My eyes returned to Eira.
She wasn't leaving.
Fine.
If she wouldn't listen to a warning, I'd have to make her understand.
My jaw tightened.
I knew exactly what I needed to do.
I slowly stood, straightened my jacket, and started towards her.
EIRA'S POV
I was doing my best to ignore the disgusting comments coming from the nearby table.
Seriously.
Did these men have absolutely no shame?
I adjusted my grip on the tray and turned away, pretending I hadn't heard a single word.
Then a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Waitress."
My entire body stiffened.
I turned.
Adrian.
Oh, wonderful.
Just wonderful.
Something was terribly wrong.
His expression was rigid, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle visibly twitched beneath his cheek.
And his eyes—
They were fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach flutter uneasily.
"Serve my friends."
He gestured towards the group of drunken men.
I stared at him.
What?
Was he serious?
But his expression gave nothing away.
Reluctantly, I approached the table.
"Here you go," I muttered, placing the glasses down.
I was about to turn when—
A foot suddenly slid into my path.
My heel caught against it.
My balance vanished.
The tray lurched forward.
A startled gasp escaped my lips.
I reached out instinctively, desperately trying to regain my footing.
But it was too late.
CRASH!
Glass shattered against the marble floor.
The tray slipped from my hands.
And before my knees could strike the ground, an arm hooked firmly around my waist.
A sharp pull.
My body lurched backwards.
I collided with something solid.
Someone.
Adrian.
His arm was locked around my waist, holding me upright.
My hands instinctively grabbed his jacket.
For one suspended moment, I forgot about the shattered glasses.
Forgot about the people watching.
Forgot about everything.
His grip was firm.
Almost bruising.
My breath caught as I realised just how close we were.
His chest was pressed against mine, and his face hovered above me.
I looked up.
He was already looking at me.
His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was clenched.
Neither of us moved.
His fingers remained secured around my waist.
My own fingers tightened involuntarily against his jacket.
Then—
"What is going on here?!"
The manager's furious voice shattered the moment.
Adrian released me.
I stumbled back, hastily putting some distance between us.
"I-I'm sorry, sir—"
"What kind of staff are you hiring?" Adrian interrupted, his voice turning ice-cold. "She can't even carry a tray properly."
The manager's expression changed instantly.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir."
"I don't want apologies."
Adrian didn't even glance at him.
His gaze remained fixed on me.
"Fire her."
I blinked.
What?
Surely I'd heard him wrong.
"What?"
"Fire her."
My mouth fell open.
"No! Someone tripped me—"
"I don't care."
His expression remained utterly indifferent.
"You're fired."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Couldn't even move.
I simply stared at him, my fingers curling helplessly at my sides.
He didn't look away.
Not once.
There wasn't even a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.
The manager immediately stepped towards me.
"You heard him. Hand over your tray and leave."
I looked at Adrian again.
He was already turning away.
Just like that.
As though I meant absolutely nothing to him.
My throat tightened.
I had come here to protect Claira.
I had risked being discovered, disguised myself, endured those ridiculous heels, and somehow managed to get myself fired within minutes.
But none of that stung quite as much as the way he had looked at me.
Cold.
Distant.
Unforgiving.
And yet...
I couldn't shake the feeling that something about his sudden decision didn't add up.
Because deep down, I knew one thing.
He hadn't fired me because I had dropped the tray.
He had done it on purpose.
And somehow, that hurt far more than losing the job.