Dose 𝓝ineteen

Dose Nineteen Observations:
Subject appears annoyed by specific presences.

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I didn’t get any kind of email or notification regarding how early I left Levane.

The only text I got was from Zion, asking if everything was good.

I briefly responded, clarifying that everything was fine—I also went ahead and said I would be spending the night in before he could invite me to any plans.

I genuinely just wanted to be inside all night, dreading this stupid gala that I had to be at the next day.

Knowing Leon would be there, and probably Cruella de Vil by his side, didn’t help.

I would also have to see Sienna.

Or Sarah, as Leon called her.  

I’m officially calling her Sarah now.  

I also have to see Briggszilla—at this point, I’m forming a list of people I want to avoid.

I would do anything if it meant getting out of this stupid gala.

Well, not anything.

But practically anything.

The only thing I was excited about was my dress.

I was practically itching to put it on the next day.

I even started getting ready early since that’s the best part of any outing.

For some reason, no matter how early I get ready, I still end up running behind.

Luckily, I didn’t care about being late, so I purposely took my time.

I made sure my hair was in the perfect messy updo.

It looked intentionally messy, with a few wavy strands framing my face and the rest smoothly pulled up.

I did my usual makeup, but lined my under eyes with a black eyeliner, which made my eyes pop.

I also did a more nude and pink lip with a layer of gloss—and extra highlight on my cheekbones.

Then I zipped myself into my silver gown.

It was strapless, but it had structure—enough to cling to my waist and push my boobs up.

The silver beading caught every shred of light in my bedroom, glimmering like wet glass.

It was draped in these delicate chains across the bodice and down my hips.

It looked effortless, but I knew it had been stitched by hand.

The fabric underneath was this sheer smoky nude that blended into my skin, giving the illusion that the beads were only floating there.

It felt sinful and heavy in all the right places, falling delicately past my ankles and barely grazing the floor.

I couldn’t stop staring at myself in the mirror—half in disbelief, half in awe.

I looked expensive.

Like I actually belonged at one of these events, even if I didn’t want to fucking be there.

I slipped on a pair of delicate silver heels, the thin straps wrapping around my feet.

I only accessorized with a pair of thin pearls.  

Otherwise, my sharpened collarbones were my form of jewelry.

I also put on a pair of matching pearl earrings, rubbing body butter into my chest to make it glisten.

I also used some bronzed oil on my skin, which really brought it all together.

It made my arms and chest glimmer under every ounce of light that fell against it, making me smile wider in satisfaction.

Maybe a part of me wanted her to see me.

Maybe I wanted to make her trip over her own two feet, but I knew that was too high an expectation.

So I settled on the idea of her at least stopping to stare.

It was stupid to even expect or want.

But I did.

I wanted her attention.

And this dress—my entire look tonight would earn me it.

My heart was nearly beating a mile a minute as I told Jynx goodbye, briefly kissing the top of her head, even though she was reluctant about my sudden departure.

Zion had texted me ten minutes prior, saying that he had made it there already and how insane it all was.

But I’ve already been to some of the one percent’s events.

At least back in New York.

I knew it wouldn’t be much of a shock to me, but there’s always some wow factor.

Seattle was as rainy as usual, except more of a downpour, which was a huge inconvenience.

My car was parked in the parking garage of the apartment complex, but I had decided not to take my car since I planned to drink as much of whatever fancy alcoholic drink they’re serving.

So I messaged my Uber driver, specifying to circle around to the parking garage because there’s no way I’m fucking up any part of this perfectly curated look that I spent hours on.

Luckily, the building the venue itself had this massive awning that stretched out over the entrance.

It was covered in properly groomed vines, each one glistening under the streetlights, as the sound of the harsh rain hit it.

The steps beneath it were stone and slick with water, leading up to tall golden doors framed by carved columns and old lanterns that flickered against the wet Seattle night.

It had this historic charm, like it used to be a theater or an old hotel.

The walls were a warm cream stone, a little weathered from age, with big windows that glowed softly from the light inside.

Inside, it was even more stunning.

I couldn’t lie and say my lips didn’t part slightly as I walked down the wide stone stairs, following behind everyone else toward the main event.

The air was warm with expensive perfume, and the sound of different heels clicking on marble echoed under the ceiling painted with faint gold accents.

The largest crystal chandelier I had ever seen hung in the center, spilling light across the room and catching on every sequin, jewel, and champagne glass.

The floors were polished to perfection, and the walls were lined with old portraits in gold vintage frames.

Guests moved through the space like they belonged here—laughing and greeting each other as they pretended not to notice the servers weaving between them with silver trays of champagne.

A small quartet was busy playing the softest classical music in the corner, adding to the ambience and soft chatter of the room.

I glanced around, spotting Zion immediately over by Grayson.

They were both dressed in crisp suits—except Zion wore a black bow tie while Grayson wore a black tie with streaks of gold.

I naturally walked over to them, desperately wanting to mingle with people I knew before I was forced into awkward small talk.

I grabbed a glass of champagne on the walk over, knowing I would need it if I wanted to survive even an hour here, surrounded by forced laughter and fake smiles.

“Chipper,” Grayson called out first, noticing me as I approached them. “Damn girl, you clean up good.”

I smiled, doing a small twirl for him. “You like?”

“We love,” Grayson didn’t hesitate to say, his smile spreading wider.

“You look good, Libs,” Zion said, leaning in for a brief side hug that I didn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

“You both look good too—loving that tie, Grayson,” I said, motioning at his tie with my half-empty champagne glass.

Grayson did a shy shoulder shrug. “This is nothing—just a little Dolce & Gabbana.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I took a brief sip of my bubbly champagne.

“Oh wow,” I heard a familiar voice call out from behind me, causing me to turn my head slightly.

“Eliza,” I smiled, stepping away from Grayson and Zion to hug her.  

“Hey-hey,” she said, briefly hugging me back before we pulled away.

Eliza was in this metallic long-sleeve gown, wearing a subtle red lip with her dark hair down and precisely straightened.

“You look great,” I murmured, eyeing her shiny gown.

“You look great,” she emphasized with a wide smile.

I hummed dramatically. “I know about the breakfast,” I whispered lowly to her.

“I heard,” Eliza said, taking the longest sip of champagne before she said, “Sorry?”

“Don’t be,” I sighed, knowing my issue wasn’t with Eliza.

She is Monroe’s best friend after all.

What can I really expect?

“Every lunch has been catered since then,” Eliza pointed out, tilting her head as her dark eyes trailed over my face suspiciously.

“What are you trying to say?” I asked, raising a brow at her.

“Nothing,” Eliza quickly determined, glancing away from me. “Mon cares that you eat, is all,” she added, her words barely a whisper between us.

“Painfully clear,” I mumbled, letting out a deep sigh as I suddenly glanced over to Zion and Grayson. “Here, let me introduce you,” I quickly determined, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible.

Eliza didn’t hesitate to step closer with me, probably wanting to change the topic of conversation as smoothly as we could.

“Guys, this is Eliza—”

“Ms. Montao, yes, we’ve met,” Grayson said with a wide smile.

Eliza smiled back at him. “We have,” she agreed, glancing over to my best friend.

“Zion Lewis,” he didn’t hesitate to say, but I could tell he wasn’t too fond.

He knows exactly who Eliza is and who she’s friends with.   

“Liberty’s friend,” she observed, earning a curt nod from Zion.

“Oh, you two are close?” Grayson asked, looking between me and Eliza.

“Yes,” Eliza said with furrowed brows, but she didn’t contribute anything else.

There wasn’t anything left to contribute, unless the topic suddenly became about their CEO.

“How did you guys meet?” Grayson asked curiously, probably as Levane’s biggest gossiper.

“Uh,” I paused, awkwardly glancing at Eliza.

 “Mutual friend,” she didn’t hesitate to say, and suddenly I knew why she was in PR.

“That’s really cool,” Grayson determined, while Zion seemed to sip on his champagne silently.

“I’m gonna grab another glass,” I suddenly determined, motioning over to the tower of perfectly stacked champagne glasses.

“And I should probably go make a few introductions,” Eliza added, backing away from us. “Nice talking to you all. I’ll see you later, Liberty.”

I nodded. “See you later,” I murmured, stepping away from them all. “I’ll be back, guys,” I added, earning a few nods from Zion and Grayson.

Then I smoothly turned around, walking past the different crowds of people to grab a glass of champagne.

But I couldn’t lie to myself.

And I definitely couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering.

From searching for her.

She’s not here.

She couldn’t be.

My eyes combed through the masses of people, and nothing.

Not a single glimpse of her familiar blue eyes or brown hair that always looked perfect.  

If she were here, I would know it.

And she’s not.

Why is she not here?

I shook my head as I grabbed a glass of champagne, determining that I shouldn’t care if she’s here.

If anything, this is better.

It’s good that she’s not here—for the both of us.

“They shouldn’t let you anywhere near a tower,” I heard her annoying high-pitched voice. “You’re already clumsy enough.”

“Kara,” I forced out tightly, not bothering to smile as I glanced at her.

She was in a burnt orange gown, her dark hair down in waves that emphasized the blonde highlights she had.

Her thin lips were outlined in nude, and her face was covered with minimal makeup.

“Ms. Fierro,” Kara said, her usual fake smile on her lips. “Of course, you would choose that kind of gown for a work event,” she observed, her tone sickly sweet.

I hummed tightly. “Yep, everyone seems to love it,” I determined, glancing down at her dress. “I admire your passion for fall. I don’t think anyone would’ve thought to dress like a pumpkin.”   

I noticed her grip on her glass tighten.

Just slightly.

“And I admire how resilient you are, truly,” Kara didn’t hesitate to say, placing a manicured hand on her heart. “Constantly fighting to get the attention of… well, anyone, has to be hard.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, “So how did you shade match the dress? Did they hold up pumpkins to pick the orange?”

Kara’s tightened smile grew, showing her straight teeth. “Is this your way of celebrating Halloween early? A disco ball is certainly a choice,” she murmured sarcastically.

I parted my lips to say something back to her shitty words, but I was halted as soon as the doors opened—

And there they were.

Leon and Clarisse Leclair.

Leon was in his usual crisp black suit with silver cufflinks that glistened almost as much as the top of his bald head.

Clarisse stood by his side, her arm carefully looped around his like she had been positioned that way and told to stay like a dog.

She wore a sleek black gown, the tiniest of diamonds woven into different parts of the dark fabric.

I actually liked the dress.

It was long-sleeved and had a higher neck, which was emphasized by her precise updo with a few pale blonde strands left out to frame her face.

Everyone was looking at them.

Including me.

Leon seemed to have his usual charismatic smile on his lips, which seemed to annoy every nerve in my body at the sight of it.

Clarisse was neutral by his side, almost like an accessory to him.

“Oh brother,” I mumbled when Leon’s beady little eyes shifted to me.

He was looking right at me.

It made me take the longest sip of my champagne, especially when he started walking in my direction with Clarisse following each step he took.

Along with the pairs of eyes following them.

Briggszilla took a bunch of steps away from me like I was the fucking plague.

It made me happy.

If only there wasn’t a worse presence, I could be in.

The Leclair’s.

Great.

“Ms. Fierro,” Leon’s annoying deep voice addressed me as the room seemed to fall back into a soft chatter among the quartet still playing soft music.

At least they had the decency to mind their own business.

“Hey guys, having a good weekend?” I decided to ask with a forced smile. “Loving the gown, Mrs. Leclair,” I purposely added.

The reaction on her face was barely there—maybe it was all the Botox keeping her stiff.

But I knew she was disgusted.

Almost like she wanted to take the gown off and burn it until it was nothing.

I think I offended her?

Good, I guess.

Even if that wasn’t my intention.

Maybe complimenting her clothes is the way to go from here on out.

“Your lawyers informed us that there were no loopholes to be found, Ms. Fierro,” Leon said, and it took everything inside of me not to react to his words. “I wanted to deliver that message personally.”

 “I’m sure you did,” I mumbled with a forced smile, lifting my champagne glass to my lips. “Thanks for the six-figure salary, I guess.”

I couldn’t believe my mother’s lawyers found nothing.

And that they fucking told Leon before us.

We need new lawyers—these ones seem to be too busy sucking off Leon to actually care about their clients.

“We have a proposition,” Leon suddenly spoke, making me roll my eyes. “Think of it as your very own loophole.”

I rolled my eyes a second time.

Of course, he would offer a “proposition”.

This was all constructed from the beginning to play out in their favor.

“Who is we?” I decided to ask, glancing over to Clarisse, “I didn’t realize she made any decisions for herself?”

“You certainly don’t make any for yourself,” Clarisse didn’t hesitate to speak, her tone calm, yet condescending. “You assume you’ve made your own decisions, oui, Ms. Fierro?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “You only make what we allow. Do remember that.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, “Guess you and I are in the same boat then.”

Clarisse only hummed, still unaffected by my words. “I wouldn’t be caught anywhere near you, specifically, this boat you speak of.”

“Then why are you here?” I asked with a growing smile, amused by her words backfiring on them both.

“Business, Only business,” Clarisse emphasized, her French accent heavier. “One second of conversation with you is quite nauseating. Mon Dieu, how that daughter of ours does it?”

 I rolled my eyes, “Well, you seem to want a lot to do with me—”

“Liberty.”

I blinked a few times at her voice that spilled softly from behind me, my lips still parted dumbfoundedly.

I wondered if I had officially lost my fucking mind, and she wasn’t even behind me to begin with.

But then I turned my head slightly—

And there she was, standing just inches from me.

Half of her silky brown hair was pulled away from her face, leaving the rest down along with her precisely brushed bangs.

Her dress was this pale, blush pink—flowy and feathered at the sleeves, with a plunging neckline that somehow managed to look both elegant and dangerous at the same time.

The fabric shimmered faintly under the chandelier light, every movement catching each shred of light.

Her skin looked unreal—smooth and glowing, especially with her makeup emphasizing all her perfect features, even her high cheekbones.  

The expression on her face…

It was calm, unreadable, like always.

She didn’t need to say a word.

Just standing there, she had every ounce of attention in the room—including mine.

I felt this weird warmth burning at the edges of my body, making my hands twitch slightly by my side.

I knew it was wrong.

I knew that I couldn’t be mad about her standing there, with eyes aside from mine on her.

Especially with the neckline of that dress she just had to fucking wear, exposing skin that shouldn’t be seen to begin with.

If Sienna is here, I might just lose every ounce of my composure.

Not even just Sienna.

I think I’m slowly unraveling at the idea of all these people staring at her like this.   

“Mon bijou,” Leon had the nerve to address Monroe, snapping me from my hazy thoughts.

Monroe didn’t say anything, her blue eyes noticeably trailing the dress I wore.

It made me anxiously shift, my face burning from her stare.

It was so open and obvious, like she owned the right to look at me like this.

“Monroe,” I finally spoke, trying to divert her attention away.

She hummed softly, her gaze zoned in on my exposed chest, glistening from all the oils and lotion.

“Ro,” I forced out, my voice lowered between only us.

Her blue eyes snapped up to meet mine immediately, not bothering to address either of her parents past me.

I let out a heavy sigh, my chest rising and falling with it. “You’re staring.”

“I know,” Monroe said, furrowing her brows as she stared so deeply at my eyes.

Then—

She forcefully looked away, “That dress is quite exposing,” she said, almost in a sigh.

“I could say the same about yours,” I unconsciously shot back.

My words sounded more bothered than they should’ve.

“Is there an issue with what I’m wearing, Liberty?” Monroe just had to ask, glancing back at me.

“Nope,” I didn’t hesitate to say. “Is there an issue with mine?”

“A massive issue,” she determined, making me clench my jaw.

“We were conversing with Ms. Fierro. About the contract,” Leon suddenly interjected, stepping closer to us both, so he could hear somewhat of what we were saying.

Or murmuring since we spoke barely loud enough to hear each other, let alone for them to hear us.

“Yes, the proposition you mentioned,” Monroe calmly said to her father, making my brows furrow. “Liberty isn’t taking it.”

“How do you know?” I defensively asked, “I mean, I’m not, but you don’t get a say.”

“Of course,” Monroe didn’t hesitate to say, making me roll my eyes.

Whenever she says that—with that tone and look, it feels like she’s saying the fucking opposite.

“Whatever,” I sighed, brushing past her, close enough to inhale her floral perfume, “Have fun with family time,” I decided to say, removing myself from the conversation before Leon or Clarisse could say anything else.

But I barely got ten steps away before I felt it.

Her grip on my wrist, the softness of her hand wrapping around my skin.

It made me halt, glancing over my shoulder as I tugged my wrist out of her hand before anyone could see.

Monroe didn’t say anything.

She just motioned her head toward the side doors.

The ones she must’ve come from, since I would’ve spotted her immediately from the main doors.

“No,” I said immediately, knowing she wanted to speak with me privately.

It wasn’t a good idea.

“Five minutes,” was all she said.

“I don’t have five minutes,” I shot back.

“No, you’ll meet me in two minutes,” Monroe murmured between us, her lips twitching up slightly as she eyed my face. “I’ll escort you out otherwise.”

I parted my lips to reject her demands—

But she walked away before I could, leaving me with irritation and her stupid demands.

I tried to focus back on the stupid gala, sipping on my champagne like this entire evening hadn’t weighed on my stress levels.

I even talked to some of my coworkers who I never bothered to learn the names of.

But I couldn’t help myself from checking my phone every minute or so.  

Or from walking over to those side doors, glancing around to ensure no one noticed me.  

I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it.

I was meeting her out here despite everything inside of me telling me not to.

It’s a bad idea, especially tonight—when she looks like this.

But I did it anyway.

I slipped past those doors anyway, the soft classical music gone as soon as they closed behind me.

I glanced around the empty hallway with stone pillars, precise crown molding, and glossy marble floors.

My heart was beating faster than I could keep up, patiently waiting for her to meet me out here.

And wondering what would happen in spite of it.