#jamil already had that line up and ready to deliver

[crystallizsch]

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 1: The Job

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

She’s never thought about doing clerical work before, but that’s not going to stop her. Nadya begins her new job as secretary for the mysterious Adrian Raines.

[READ IT ON AO3]

As soon as Lily yanks the lipstick from her hand the cab screeches to a jerking halt on the curb. The kind of stop that has the potential to ruin an entire twenty minutes-worth of hasty makeup application.

“Here.” grunts the Cabby, already flicking on his ‘VACANT’ sign and punching the buttons on his dash panel.

“Think you could chill out a little next time on the landing, Speed Racer? Here hon, hold this.” She returns the lipstick to its rightful owner to dig around in her bag for the cab fare.

Nadya sits in a daze; stares at her lipstick like she’s forgotten how to use it until Lily is grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her out onto the bustling Manhattan sidewalk.

“You okay?” Lily’s hands are warm in the sunlight. They manage to bring her out of her spell. With a one-two-three swipe of her lipstick she brings a beaming smile her roommate’s way.

“Never better. Thanks for the save back there.”

“Thank me with a paycheck. And pizza — you can never go wrong with pizza.”

The main entrance of Raines Corp. faces north, follows the path of the sun so as not to shine in. A strange thing to notice, Nadya thinks, but she can’t help but hope that means she won’t constantly have the sunset glaring in her eyes every evening.

“Final checks!” Lily announces, loud enough to gain the attention of several Wall Street schlubs on their blue-teeth or air-phones or whatever else they use to distract from the tedium.

God, I hope I don’t end up like that at the end of this job… The thought flits through Nadya’s mind briefly before it’s lost in Lily’s vibrancy.

“Phone-wallet-keys?”

“Check.”

“Emergency Listerine strips?”

“Check.”

“Emergency deodorant?”

“Check.”

“Disdain for the bourgeoisie bullshit that allows people to treat secretaries like servants?”

Nadya laughs. “Check!”

“Then my dear,” she squeezes their hands together before letting go with a flourish of wide arms, “there’s nothing more I can do for you. You’re ready to walk into the belly of the Capitalist beast.”

But ‘ready’ though she may be Nadya doesn’t move; just stares at Lily’s encouraging smile like it’ll give her the power to take on the whole world or bring every skyscraper on the block crumbling to their foundations.

Her roommate pushes her ropes of neon-purple dreads over her shoulder and goes in for the hug Nadya didn’t know she even needed; let alone ask for. It’s one she returns warmly — it brings back distant memories of clinging to her mother on the first day of school.

“Seriously, Nadi’, you’ve got this.” whispers Lily into her ear, and Nadya very much has this.

She turns and steels herself—a final mental check to ensure all is secure and well and oh god did I forget my emergency tampon at home no Lily put it in the side pocket thank god so yes, it’s all well—before she strides in through the revolving doors.

“Don’t worry about dinner, honey-bunch! You just earn Momma that cheddar!” She can hear Lily’s faint laughter before the roar of industrialized air conditioning drowns out everything else.

Everything that had happened on the day of her interview had led Nadya to believe he might be a decent boss to work for; one of those kinds of CEOs who had wealth but didn’t flaunt it, or who gave out really epic bonuses come Christmas or the New Year. She figured she’d be seeing a lot of him around — not that he’d be asking her to accompany him to important client dinners or doing that thing in movies where he asks her to order him midnight sushi and it turns out to be enough for two — because what CEO goes out of their way to personally attend the hiring of someone who only has top-tier security clearance because that’s where her desk is?

Boy, was she wrong.

Adrian Raines communicates almost solely by email (or in the more urgent requests, the Raines Corp. interdepartmental instant message app). When he leaves his office he never needs to be accompanied. If not for the heaps of digital filing she’s asked to organize she’d almost forget who she was working for. He’s always polite; signs his emails with ‘thank yous’ and things like ‘I really appreciate all your hard work!’ but the distance takes some getting used to.

“Maybe he’s just antisocial,” Lily suggests over their now-standard lunch break phone call. Nadya can hear the distant tinny noise of digital zombies having their heads blown off on Lil’s livestream. “You know, like one of those reclusive ba-jillionaires in the movies. Or he thinks you smell.”

“I don’t smell!” Nadya argues back — and definitely doesn’t do a smell-check of her armpits sheepishly.

But Lily intends to find the silver lining in everything; one of the things that makes them get along so fabulously. “Think of it this way; sooo many people in your position have to see way too much of their bosses, right? And that burns them out! So you have more time to rake in the dough before you gotta high-tail it from Armaniville.”

“I guess,” she stabs a cold lump of orange chicken absentmindedly, “it’d just be a lot easier if he weren’t so darn nice.”

The next day Adrian sends her a list of things to get from the sub-basement archives; gifts for some client meeting he has in an hour. Nadya takes it on as a DEFCON 5 because each item is a separate ping on the IM server. If it can’t all be in one email it’s gotta be important, right?

All it takes is a requisition form sent below and the whole two dozen paces between her desk, the elevator, and the building delivery desk on the ground floor. She’d go into the conference room and deliver the package herself but while Adrian might appreciate the gesture the same might not be said for other head-honchos. So she leaves it on the corner of her desk for Adrian to grab on his way down.

Just before the lift doors open Adrian turns on his glossy heel. For the first time since her interview he addresses Nadya face-to-face.

“Nadya?”

“Yes, Mister Raines?” They both chuckle. Even with the impersonal disposition of digital communication they’ve found a way to share inside jokes; it took half a dozen messages for Nadya to learn how very serious Adrian was about being addressed by his first name even via email.

She glances up from Nicole’s daily ‘list of chores’ (Lily’s words, not hers, but she doesn’t deny the accuracy) to find Adrian staring at her. Even from across the room there’s a clarity to him. Adrian Raines is attractive; Nadya knows it, the numerous reporters from the tech, business, and gossip magazines Nadya has had to politely turn away all know it, hell even Adrian himself probably knows it — and not in the vain way pretty rich men know they’re pretty, but in a more humble sense.

So yeah, having someone like him stare with that movie-star smolder at someone like her makes it impossible for Nadya not to blush. But he’s her boss, and this gig is too good for all the months of “We promise we’ll have the rent next month please don’t evict us!” back-pay they owe their landlord to risk. And she’s pretty sure trying to romance the boss is a big risk.

She tries again, “Yes, Mister Raines?” because Adrian seems to be in his own little world. One he finally snaps out of.

“I just wanted to make sure you know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since you came on. You’ve definitely been one of my more successful assistants.” That’s Adrian; making sure everyone feels appreciated.

Nadya simply shrugs it off; wouldn’t do her well to get too airheaded so early in the game. “Just doing my job, Mister Raines.”

“Nadya…”

“Just doing my job,” she winks, “Adrian.”

It’s the longest meeting he’s ever had; the text she gets somewhere near dawn thanking her for staying but releasing her fills Nadya with nothing short of relief. Gathering her things, clocking out, swiping her card for the lift; everything is routine now. Even strolling passed the conference room on her way to the front desk.

“Are you sure he’s being truthful about his numbers?”

“We can’t be sure of anything when it comes to Cecil, Adrian. That is why I insisted I go myself. He knows better than to lie to my face.”

“Yet he may still have.”

Stopping in front of the frosted glass isn’t one of her smarter ideas. Not like it stops her. Mostly she’s caught off guard by the seriousness of Adrian’s tone even through the doors. Can’t think of a time when she ever heard him sound like that; almost dark, or angry.

But where Adrian is filled with passion whoever he’s speaking to keeps her cool. Her voice a velvet purr so low Nadya finds herself straining to hear, leaning closer to the door and closer to the danger of discovery.

“I have my associates scouring the city for where they might be originating. You’d think someone might report seeing a corpse or two suddenly going grey and—”

A gruff Indian drawl interrupts her. Even from a distance Nadya feels like that’s a bad move.

“This is New York, Kamilah. Bodies are as rare as pigeons!”

“Then what have you contributed, Lester?” asks Adrian.

Lester grumbles something she doesn’t quite catch, then: “Don’t flash those at me, pup. I’ll speak to my men on the PD and see if they’ve been keeping anything hiding under their little blue belts.”

None of it makes sense. There’s walking in on half a conversation and then there’s whatever Adrian and his associates are discussing. The one thing Nadya is sure of is how much she dislikes the knot forming in her gut while her mind races to try and put some of what she’s hearing together.

There’s a long silence. For a moment she fears she’s been found out and her heart drops out through her stomach. Then she hears Adrian again — this time he sounds tired.

“We have to get this under control. Until we do every victim is our fault; their blood is on our hands.”

If there’s more to his speech she doesn’t stick around to hear it. Finds herself out on the cold Manhattan sidewalk just as the sun starts to haul itself up over the horizon. She doesn’t even remember if she said goodbye to the night guard. Her blood pounds in her ears.

Lily made a valiant effort to stay awake and greet her as evidenced by a full cup of tea gone cold on the island counter. But her roommate is passed out on the couch — Nadya envies that ability to sleep anywhere. The words victim and blood and hands echo in Adrian’s voice around her skull like bouncy-balls while she gets ready for bed.

Adrian acts like nothing is different — and to him it isn’t. But whenever she gets the chance Nadya tries to find some inkling, some shadow hidden behind his megawatt smile and usual charm. If ever given the chance to wander her mind starts coming up with fantastical ideas and scenarios: like seeing him as Christian Bale in American Psycho or getting a late-night text for her to come into work and finding him in the process of wrapping a body up in construction plastic.

Nadya only imagines being the victim of the cruel-yet-classy alter ego of Adrian once. Somehow discovering his secret life as a hitman or deranged killer is more believable than the thought that he would ever harm her.

But it doesn’t stop the hairs on the back of her neck from standing up when the rarity arrives of Adrian leaving at the same time as her. Lots of people are murdered in elevators in the movies.

“So… everything alright?”

Nadya looks to find Adrian’s gaze level and calm and right at her. Oh god, she thinks, he knows!

She fumbles for an answer instead — tries, and fails, to play it cool.

“Peachy keen.”

“Are you sure?” He’s not gonna press the matter if she doesn’t want to talk about it; just another one of the things that makes Adrian Raines possibly the ideal man. But he needs to stop looking like a kicked puppy in order to make it easier for her to lie to him.

So she decides to pick a different truth instead. “Yeah, I’m just not looking forward to the long trip home.”

Adrian’s nose scrunches. “I was under the impression your apartment was one train away.”

“Normally it is. But they shut down the station at my stop a couple nights ago. Some accident on the weekend or something.”

It’s exactly the Adrian thing for him to do when he offers her a ride home in the company car. And it’s the Nadya thing for her to decline, but rather than playfully letting it slide Adrian actually insists. Pipes up what could have been the speech her mom gave her about moving to ‘the Big City’ verbatim; with strangers lurking the streets and the subway never really being as safe as they claim.

“And forgive my selfishness,” he finishes while opening the sleek black Buick door, “but I’d have a pretty hard time finding another secretary with hours as flexible as yours. So let’s get you home safe and sound.”

One complimentary ride home is a favor. Then one turns into two, turns into the whole week, turns into “I know your station opened back up yesterday, Nadya, but if I’m being honest I enjoy the detour and the company,” and by the time Adrian’s car is pulling onto the curb outside her building at sunset—the usual time she sets off—there’s really no opportunity to refuse.

“I went to make you a cup, too, but then I realized I have no idea how you take your coffee — secretaries everywhere have shunned me.” Nadya greets him by way of apology, sliding into the now-familiar front seat with her travel mug in hand. Adrian laughs.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m more of a tea person.”

If Adrian is surprised when, same time next day, Nadya slides in with her usual mug and a second with a teabag string dangling over the side, he hides it well.

But while their routine has become more personable and casually affectionate it hasn’t entirely cleared her boss of suspicion. There’s three more meetings he releases her early for. She doesn’t snoop like the first time but definitely catches the same voices in her passing haste to the exit.

Then one ordinary night she spots an error on Adrian’s agenda.

“Did you want me to call the Gallery about getting a refund?” She doesn’t knock before entering — doesn’t really need to at this point. There’s something weirdly intimate about sitting in his car flicking radio stations while he pumps gas and returns with her favorite chocolate peanut-butter cookies. Intimate in that it makes knocking seem unnecessary.

Used to it, Adrian doesn’t look away from his screen. “Refund for what?”

“You bought two tickets to this thing, the ‘Manhattan Gallery’s Dedication to National Geographic Auction’ on Friday next.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And—Jesus—they’re five hundred bucks a piece?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So did you want a refund?”

“Why? I asked yesterday if you had plans then. You said no.”

It takes her a moment before Nadya’s doing her best impression of a fish.

“That second ticket’s mine?”

Now out of his chair Adrian leans against his desk with a smirk that could almost be called cheeky. If she didn’t know him better, that is.

“Well who else would I take?” he asks genuinely.

“I—I mean—well Nicole, for one.”

He waves off his assistant’s name. Odd, Nadya can’t help but think, since they seemed have a close relationship — close enough for her to berate him in front of a stranger on the day they met. Maybe less so in the last months… but still.

“She’s been to dozens of these. I wanted to take someone who might actually appreciate something new.” His falter is only slight. “I mean, of course, if you want to come. I probably shouldn’t have assumed.”

And she does, oh she does, but a nagging voice in the back of her head that sounds not-so-suspiciously like Anne-Marie from HR — who probably didn’t think Nadya could hear her over the gurgle of the downstairs coffee cart when she leaned over to her coworker and whispered a nasty rumor about “Mister Raines and his Secretary of the Night” — has her hesitant to say the least.

She’s taken too long to respond when Adrian’s hands fall on her shoulders. He cranks up the AC so high she had to pull her winter sweaters out of storage in the middle of summer. Even through the wool though she can feel the chill of his palms.

“Nadya? Talk to me.” Kind Adrian; Kind, empathetic, stupidly perceptive Adrian.

It makes her step back; gain some personal—and professional—space between them.

“Mister Raines,” and when did this become her life exactly, “I appreciate the gesture; all the gestures, actually, but…” already she’s hoping Lily kept yesterday’s newspaper with the classifieds, “I’m not… well, I’m not exactly interested in you in that… way.”

Adrian Master-of-the-Unexpected Raines goes bright red. Has Nadya wondering if she should take a picture to sell to the same tabloids that claim to see equally nonexistent things like Bigfoot.

Then he takes a deep breath. “Nadya — er, Miss Al Jamil — if I ever gave you the impression I… what I mean to say is that if you’ve found any of my actions untoward — erm — or, possibly, salacious in nature, I assure you, I—wait no, let me—”

He’s actually fumbling, which is how Nadya realizes he’s taken aback by her statement; how she realizes he was a million miles away from that dangerous place. And did he just say salacious?

To her surprise Adrian actually stops when she holds up a finger.

“Before you, uh, choke on your own tongue,” probably not the best idea to bring up his tongue but you know what they say about hindsight, “just… answer one question, okay?”

He nods.

“Is this an invitation as your date, or as your coworker?”

“Good heav — as my coworker, Nadya!” He practically chokes on his relief. It takes an exhale for Nadya to realize she is, too. Then they’re laughing, separately and awkwardly, and the next thing Nadya knows Adrian is pouring two tumblers of expensive scotch from the little trolley to the side of his desk that she’s never seen him use before. He’s her boss and he’s the one offering it, so he can’t get on her case when she accepts the liquor like the peace offering it is.

Friday night comes around and, as expected, the world ends.

“How can one person own this many dresses and none of them be for freakin’ formal events?!”

“Hey! That Sailor Mars dress was made specifically for a ball!”

“Lily, I’m only gonna say this one more time—” Nadya pokes her head out of her roommate’s tiny closet with what she hopes is a glare that thoroughly conveys her frustration; though the way her large glasses are dangerously ready to fall off the tip of her nose negates that completely, “—I can’t wear Sailor Moon cosplay to the Manhattan Art Gallery!”

Lily huffs and nibbles another spicy cheese puff. “Show me where it says that on the damn dress code…”

In a flurry of barely-clothed despair Nadya rushes back across the hall to her own room. Lily follows — cradles her snack bowl in her arms like one would a precious infant.

“I don’t get why the dress you bought doesn’t work.” Lily plops down next to the last-minute ordered dress and is careful to keep her cheesy mitts off the fabric. “It’s nice! And pink looks good on you, girl.”

Nadya looks the dress over with barely-contained spite. “It’s just… more skin than I thought it would be.” She mimes the shape of the dress’ lack of shoulder-cloth and Lily nods with an understanding “Oooh.”

“It just feels weird to wear something, like, kinda sexy after last week’s weirdness, you know? It’s weird! I think it’s weird, he’ll think it’s weird. It’ll just be…”

“Weird?” supplies Lily, who barely has time to duck the ball of socks thrown her way.

“And I don’t have time to go shopping. Adrian’ll be here in…” she looks to her bedside clock and groans, “an hour… I need more than an hour to fix my life!”

“Don’t we all.” Lily falls down beside the distraught form of her room mate and finger-feeds her a puff as per their agreement on dealing with messy snacks in mess-free zones. She wipes her hands diligently on her junk tee and caresses the apple of Nadya’s cheek with her thumb.

“Hon, just wear it. It’s your first time doing the ‘ritzy rich person’ thing and Adrian’ll totally get that. And if he tries to make it weird just laugh it off in that totally un-sexy way you do and boom—instant boner-killer.”

It’s not the pep-talk that would get the Cordonian Princess Caoimhe through her wedding day jitters, but it’s enough for Nadya; and that’s all that matters. With exaggerated grunts and huffs she hauls herself off the bed and starts to wrangle on the dress.

“I told you what he said, right?”

“You tell me a lot of things, sweetie.”

Nadya turns for Lily to dutifully zip her up. “He said I was ‘too young for him anyway,’ like, what does that even mean?”

“Do you want the Valyrian translation or something?”

“He’s thirty-one. I’m twenty-five! My parents had a bigger age gap than that!”

Lily pats the finished zipper, pulls Nadya to turn around so she can do her other, unsung duty by helping Nadya show off what she was born with.

“I mean maybe — stop fidgeting you have boobs so show them off, Christ — maybe he’s into cougars. Pretty boys usually have some form of Oedipus complex.”

“Mm… I don’t think so. Adrian’s different.”

“How?”

“He just — OW who the heck gives purple nurples these days?! — He just is, okay?! Now take your hands out of my bra Lily Spencer!”

The play-fighting gets put aside for the good of maintaining the integrity of the dress. The hour drags on, half of it spent waiting around for her (suddenly too-long, too-unruly, too-resistant) hair to dry. Nadya is always more likely to throw her hair up in a bun and go no matter the occasion, but this isn’t just any occasion. I’ll be representing Raines Corp, and Adrian by proxy, she reminds herself through every stubborn tug of her brush.

Lily is fiddling with her purse as Nadya finally exits the bathroom in a cloud of hairspray and second thoughts.

“So I packed you two granola bars in case they don’t have anything lactose-intolerant. And there’s some spare cash if you wanna dip out and grab a cab home. Did you grab your flats?”

“I can’t switch shoes in the middle of a thing like this.”

“Pretty sure I read something about it being totally acceptable.”

“Where, in a fanfiction?”

“I mean, it was The Royal Romance so… does that count?”

She turns around as she asks and sucks in audibly. The silence is self-conscious; immediately makes Nadya smooth down her hair with a nervous hand.

“What? Oh no, what’s wrong? Speak, Lily, words!”

She finds herself enveloped in a tight hug instead of an actual response, which is both a comfort and jostles her nerves slightly. “Lil’…”

Her roommate’s words are choked with embellished emotion. “You look like a real adult. I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Oh—bull!” Nadya pushes her off with a laugh — but the compliment does bring a flush to her cheeks. “I look good, though? I’ve still got a bit to change up—”

The sudden, high-pitched buzz of the complex bell interrupts as argument. One, long noise before it goes deathly silent.

Lily’s beaming. “Well that was an awfully adult ring. The kind of ring fancy professionals use!”

“No, no no!” Nadya fumbles for her phone to check the time. “He’s early! He’s here! Why is he here why is he ringing the bell why is — Lily don’t you dare!”

But she’s too late to stop the bouncing, bubbly roommate from rushing to the comm.

“Buzzing you in! Come on u—ah!”

Her greeting turns into a cry of protest as Nadya yanks her backwards.

“What are you doing?!”

“I wanna meet him!”

Nadya gestures wildly around the apartment; she doesn’t need to explain herself. The place isn’t exactly in the best state. But who could blame them — the last thing anyone wants to do when they finish a night shift is clean and Lily… well, it was in a worse state before Nadya moved in. At least now there’s a small garbage can beside the couch for all the empty chip bags.

In the time it takes Adrian to knock on their door, the pair manage to gather up empty snacks into the trash and hide everything else inside the ottoman. Lily’s hair whips at her face as she tries to pin down Nadya for the door.

“Girl—what are you doing?” She uses a little too much force in turning off the running sink and they battle clumsily over a soapy plate before Lily successfully replaces it with a towel. “He’s not staying. You don’t need to wash the plates.”

“I—” She has to right herself, but Lily’s correct, as usual. “I panicked.”

“Uh-huh. Door.”

“What?”

“Door.”

A second knock startles Nadya to action. “C-Coming!”

The doorways of Raines Corp. must be specially-designed to make Adrian look like the average man, Nadya realizes, because there’s a towering, statuesque beauty to the way her boss stands before her. He even manages to make the chipped old paint job from the ‘70s look glamorous.

“Ready to get going?” Adrian asks by way of greeting; slides one of his hands out of his pockets and offers a crooked elbow like he’s escorting her to some fancy ball.

She almost manages to take it without incident. Almost. While she regains her balance from being unceremoniously shoved aside Lily busies herself with shaking Adrian’s hand with firm vigor.

“You must be the boss-man! Lily Spencer — roommate, confidante, and Nadya’s personal Bryan Mills.” The way her smile falters isn’t unfamiliar — Adrian’s furrowed brow has already lost him points in Lily’s book.

“I’m sorry — who?” he asks; only just manages to steal his hand back.

Lily scoffs, yet Nadya can’t remember an instance where someone did understand her right off the bat.

“Bryan Mills?” As though repeating his name will somehow jog Adrian’s nonexistent memory. “You know… ‘I have a very particular set of skills that make me a nightmare for people like you?’”

Before he can flounder too long, though, Nadya mouths the movie title over Lily’s shoulder.

“Oh, right, from Taken.”

Lily brightens considerably. “Oh, good! You’ve seen it!”

“Once, I think. I remember it playing on the plane…”

“So you know what I’ll do to you if my girl doesn’t come ho—”

“And we’re leaving!” Her voice raised and pitched high with panic, Nadya manages to hip-check her way into the hall. “When I get home I’m gonna kick your butt!” she hisses — and punctuates her threat by closing the door harder than necessary.

She really hopes she still has a job by the time she and Adrian make it to the stairwell. There are five, possibly six different apologies ready on the tip of her tongue but they die off with a quick glance. Adrian’s smiling — no — beaming in a way she’s not seen before. It makes him look years younger — less like there’s a burden on his chest. She allows herself a moment of relief, and strains herself not to ruin it.

They could be heading out for another evening at the office with the casual ease between them. How Adrian opens the door and only starts the car when she’s buckled in properly, and the light conversation about a meeting he has next week with the CFO of a recently-acquired company. Nadya fidgets in what she hopes is a subtle way the entire drive downtown — it would be a shame to ruin such polite conversation with questions about which forks to use and who to not make herself look like a fool in front of.

Then (all too soon in Nadya’s opinion) Adrian pulls out of evening traffic to park on the Gallery curb. While he steps out to flag down a valet she allows herself a moment of pure, unrestrained panic while looking out the tinted windows.

A red carpet has been draped out for the occasion; down the Gallery steps to stop on the sidewalk where one couldn’t get through the mob of onlookers, reporters, and photographers if they tried. It looks less like a Gallery exhibition than a Hollywood movie premiere. Makes Nadya aware of every stark flaw — from the slightly loose fit on her dress to the few flyaway hairs she couldn’t wrangle in.

“You absolutely cannot do this,” she scolds — an insult aimed to quiet her racing heart, “this is way beyond you. You’re gonna make a fool out of yourself. Nothing in life has prepared you for a night like this… just like your interview. Got that, huh? So… don’t fall on your face or murder somebody and you’ll be fine. Just fine.”

The passenger door opens and a gust of cool night air sends goosebumps racing through every exposed part of her. Adrian extends his hand.

In a stupor, Nadya blinks and it takes a moment for her to register what he’s doing. “Huh?”

He laughs, takes the initiative, and tucks her clutch in his armpit before pulling her from the car.

“Come on. Wouldn’t want to miss the hors d’oeuvres. You haven’t lived until you’ve had beluga caviar.”

Nadya follows — and readies herself to live.