Love lies and a billionaire’s secret

CHAPTER FORTY–FOUR UNDERCURRENTS

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Nia dressed in record time, grabbing her emergency kit a tote bag filled with essentials she kept ready for just such occasions. As she raced out the door, she was already making mental lists, prioritizing tasks, and formulating contingency plans.

The streets were eerily quiet as Nia drove to the office, the usual city lights replaced by an unsettling darkness. She pulled into the parking lot, noticing a few other cars already there. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one called in for this emergency.

The next 18 hours passed in a blur of frantic calls, tense negotiations, and creative problem–solving. Nia’s desk became command central, her computer screen flickering with constantly updating spreadsheets and her phone seemingly glued to her ear.

ut to a

Her first priority was addressing the catering situation. Their contracted caterer’s kitchen was in the affected area, leaving them unable to prepare the planned menu, Thinking quickly, Nia reached out local culinary school she had once visited for a different event.

“Chef Martinez?” Nia said when the call connected. “This is Nia from Colossius Tech I know it’s early, but I have an unusual request.”

After explaining the situation, Nia made her pitch. “This could be an incredible opportunity for your students to gain real–world experience and make valuable industry connections. We’ll ensure your school receives prominent credit in all our materials.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Nia held her breath. Finally, Chef Martinez spoke. “It’s unconventional, but… I like it. We’re in.”

One fire extinguished, Nia moved on to the next crisis. The florist, unable to access their refrigerated storage, had called to cancel their order. Nia immediately dialed a floral wholesaler she had worked with in the past. Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Jim, I need a miracle,” she said as soon as he answered. “Is there any way you can divert a shipment our

while.” way? I know it’s last minute, but I promise to make it worth your

After some negotiation and a promise of future business, Jim agreed to reroute a shipment initially destined for a wedding. Nia made a mental note to send an extravagant thank–you gift to the understanding bride and groom.

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As the morning wore on, more challenges arose. The linen rental company called to cancel, citing their inability to launder and press the tablecloths due to the power outage. Nia felt a moment of panic before a memory surfaced the company’s storage unit, filled with old marketing materials and event supplies. “Rebecca,” Nia called out to one of the interns who had come in to help, “I need you to go to our storage unit. There should be boxes of old tablecloths from previous events. Bring them all here.”

While Rebecca was on her mission, Nia organized a team of volunteers to wash and iron the tablecloths once they arrived. She even managed to source some last–minute embellishments to elevate the simple linens and match them to the gala’s decor.

Throughout the day, Nia tapped into every contact she had made over the past weeks. She called in favors, made promises, and negotiated deals with a tenacity that surprised even herself. With each problem solved, she felt a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

As dawn broke on the day of the gala, Nia found herself swaying on her feet, fueled by a potent mixture of coffee and sheer determination. Her once–crisp blouse was wrinkled, her hair thrown up in a messy bun,

CHAPTHEFORTY FOUR – UNDERCURRENTS

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and dark circles. shadowed her eyes. But there was a fire in those eyes the light of impending triumph against seemingly insurmountable odds.

The office buzzed with activity as the team made final preparations. Volunteers scurried about, carrying boxes of supplies and making last–minute phone calls. The air was thick with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room. Nia turned to see Madame Rosseau striding through the door, looking impeccable despite the crisis. Her suit was perfectly pressed, not a hair out of place, as if she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine rather than weathering an all–night emergency.

Madame Rosseau’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the controlled chaos. Her gaze finally settled on. Nia, who straightened her spine, ready to defend their Improvised plans if necessary.

For a long moment, Madame Rosseau said nothing. Then, she spoke, her voice quiet but clear in the sudden silence. “You’ve done well. Very well Indeed.”

Nia stood before the ornate mirror in the venue’s powder room, adjusting her simple black dress. She smoothed out invisible wrinkles, trying to quell the nervous flutter in her stomach. The dress, while elegant, felt woefully inadequate compared to the designer gowns she had glimpsed on the arriving guests.

Taking a deep breath, Nia squared her shoulders and plastered on a bright smile. “You can do this,” she whispered to her reflection. “It’s just another night at work. No big deal.”

With one final adjustment to her hair, Nia strode out into the foyer, ready to face the crowd. The grand entrance was already buzzing with activity, a sea of tuxedos and glittering gowns swirling around her. Nia took her position near the door, clipboard in hand.

“Good evening,” she greeted an elderly couple as they approached. “May I have your names, please?”

The woman, dripping in diamonds, peered at Nia over her lorgnette. ‘Certainly, dear. Mr. and Mrs. Worthington.”

Nia scanned her list, finding their names quickly. “Wonderful! You’re at table seven. If you’ll follow the red carpet, it will lead you directly to the ballroom. Enjoy your evening!”

As the Worthingtons moved past her, Nia caught a whiff of expensive perfume. She tried not to feel self- conscious about her own drugstore brand fragrance.

The next hour passed in a blur of names, table numbers, and polite smiles. Nia was just beginning to feel like she had hit her stride when she spotted a familiar face across the room. Justin Allistair had just walked in, looking devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored tuxedo.

Their eyes locked, and suddenly the noise of the gala faded away. Justin’s lips curved into a dazzling smile, making Nia’s heart skip a beat. She felt herself smiling back, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be working.

“Excuse me, miss?” A voice broke through Nia’s reverie. She turned to find an impatient–looking man staring at her expectantly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” Nia stammered, feeling her cheeks flush. “May I have your name, please?”

As she directed the guest to his table, Nia snuck another glance at Justin. He was already surrounded by a group of executives, all vying for his attention. Nia sighed softly, reminding herself of the vast gulf between their worlds.

Throughout the evening, Nia found herself hyper-aware of Justin’s presence in the room. As she made her rounds, refilling the champagne fountain and ensuring everything ran smoothly, she couldn’t help but

CHARTER FORTY FOUR – UNDERCURRENTS

notice him watching her.

At one point, as Nia was arranging a tray of canapés, Justin appeared at her elbow.

“These look delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm

Nia jumped slightly, nearly dropping the tray. “Oh! Mr. Allistair. Would you like one?”

Justin chuckled, reaching for a canapé. As he did so, his fingers brushed against Nia’s, sending a jolt of electricity through her.

“Thank you, Nia,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “And please, call me Justin.”

Before Nia could respond, Madame Rosseau’s voice cut through the moment. “Nia! Where are those extra place cards I asked for?”