Before all this shit happened with my dad, I had been in control of my life. My every move was calculated, every breath measured, in a world where adrenaline was my lullaby. And the most crucial part of my life has been trust. My dad has taught me that without trust, there can’t be a foundation to build on. But all of that adrenaline can come crashing down, and control becomes a burden. A load I need to surrender to feel free. It’s an oxymoron. I need to let go of control to feel free.
And intimacy, I can let go.
But I haven’t found a person I trust enough to do that with—a person who respects my desires and doesn’t judge them. Or at least I thought I hadn’t found him.
“Lana, I need you,” I hear my supervisor telling me from behind the door.
“Coming!” I yell out to him. I check myself in the mirror and put on my usual wedding server outfit, my hair pulled back into a low ponytail.
“Let’s get this show on the road.”
***
I’m standing with my hands behind my back and admire the room. Even though I don’t belong here, I can’t deny that it’s beautiful.
The ballroom glitters with chandeliers that drip crystal light onto tables dressed in white and gold, each centerpiece a small forest of glass and frost-bitten roses. Some servers are already moving in silence, making sure everything is perfect. Outside, snow presses against the tall windows, soft and silent, while inside, wealth burns so brightly it makes the cold seem forgotten. Even though I know that I don’t belong here, I know how to blend in. Smile, pour, vanish—just another unforgettableshadow. In these moments I wish Emin was here, just to make this shift bearable.
“Guests are starting to come, look alive, people.” My supervisor, Alen, is a relatively good-looking middle-aged man. He is tall with short black hair and a lean physique.
The guests start trickling into the ballroom, and it’s one elegance after another. The people attending this wedding are dripping in pure luxury—elegant dresses on women, with their men hanging off them in tailored suits. A thought crosses my mind when I see all these couples: will M come with somebody?
This gnawing feeling of dread is seeping into my veins.
Fucking. Jealousy.
My eyes are scanning the room, and there he is—sin dressed in black.
M is walking through the room with confidence that could make everyone hide and disguise their shame as hatred. It’s not that he asks for respect and understanding; it seems like it comes to him naturally.
He is one of the last ones to walk into the room, and I swear, time stops.
His suit catches the light with every movement, black and dangerous, tailored within an inch of sin. Conversations faltered, heads turned, and still, he didn’t look at anyone. His moves—power wrapped in silence, confidence sharpened to a blade. When his eyes finally found mine, it wasn’t a glance. It was a claim.
His eyes narrowing and his lips forming into a devilish grin.
Our eyes do not let go of each other, and our eye contact breaks only when my boss tells us to start serving the guests.
“Memic, you are in section one. Adriana, you are in section three. Emin, you are in section four. Lana, you are in section…” Please let my supervisor not say what I think he is going to say. “You are in section two.” I try not to let my discomfort show onmy face. I have to serve three different tables, and M’s table is one of them in my section.
I didn’t think it would play out like that.
“I’m sorry, Alen, I thought I would be serving section five.” I hold up my hand. My boss looks at me with a bored expression, as if to say,Don’t be difficult right now.To his credit, he is a great boss. Better than that misogynistic pig at the diner.
“I made some last-minute changes. Everybody, get to work. The bride and groom will be here in about thirty minutes.” All the servers go to their respective sections, and we start doing our jobs. At each table, there is an assortment of soft drinks, but we still go up to each table in case they want something specific.
“Good evening. My name is Lana, and I will be your server for the evening. If you have any requests for drinks, don’t hesitate to ask me.” I look over at M, and he has leaned back slightly into his chair, admiring me. I badly want to escape his smoldering look, and I need to play my part. I look at him, and when he winks at me, I melt.
Always stay professional.
There are five people at each table, some six. At this table, there are M, three men, and two women. One seems nice enough, and the very pretty brunette is sitting beside the man who has been haunting me all this time.
The brunette is throwing daggers at me when I briefly look over at her.
“What can I get you all?” I start jotting down their orders, and then it’s M's turn.
“Scotch on the rocks, please.” He still hasn’t moved, and that intense look could burn right through me. The brunette picks up on this and scoots closer to him. She puts her elbows on the table and perches her hands underneath her chin.
“I want what he has.” She emphasizes 'he' as she tries to get him to look at her. But this man only has eyes for me.
