Chapter 4— Pretty Boys And Plot Twists.

~SARA~

"Attention all returning passengers…” the calm, practiced voice of the female speaker filters through the mic of the airport as I shuffle through the crowd, navigating my way in, “Please make your way to the arrivals gate. Follow the signs to baggage claim and customs and have your passport and travel documents ready to clear immigration,”

“Welcome to New York!” She beams and my heart pangs.

New York.

The city of broken promises.

The place where Jason had shattered my heart and walked away without looking back.

I swallow and quicken my paces, dragging my bag along the polished tiles when my eyes drifts to a man sitting nearby, casually flipping through a magazine. I glance at the cover, anger grinding through my bones as I scowl at the couple captured on it, smiling like they had just discovered the universe.

Jason and Mira.

“Why do you guys have to be everywhere?” I mutter, letting out a deep grunt.

Thirty minutes later, I complete check-out and step outside. The cool breeze slaps against my skin and I pause for a moment, closing my eyes, appreciating. I barely adjust when a voice breaks through the silence.

“Miss Sara Jane?”

I open my eyes, turning to see a man in a chaffuer uniform peer at me.

“Yes?” I answer.

He peers at his phone's screen, then at me. Then he puts it away.

“Miss Sandra sent me,” he says, “I’m to take you to the hotel.”

“The hotel?” I frown, searching for my phone which vibrates in my purse. I pull it out and stare at the screen.

Sandra.

I pick the line, “Yes?”

“Did the driver meet you?” her voice beams from the other end

I throw him a look, “He did.”

“Good. Hop on and come to the hotel,” she says.

“Wait. What hotel?”

She grunts so hard that I picture her, sitting before her laptop screen, rolling her eyes, “The hotel the client is booking for us. Girl, stop the Sherlock Holmes drama and get down here.”

I mutter an uncertain “oh,” and end the call. And then, turn to the driver and flash a “lets get this over with,” smile.

“You ready to go, Miss?” he asks.

“Yes,” I nod.

Moments later, I am led to a sleek black Range Rover.

“Our client must be ridiculously rich,” I say.

The driver only smiles and shrugs, slamming the door after me.

The car glides through the city, and for the first time since landing, a certain calm settles over me. I roll down the window, watching the vibrant streets pass by—people laughing, horns blaring, life moving on.

New York was still my home. Whether Jason was in the picture or not.

The car finally pulls at a hotel building and I step down from it, my breath snagging in my throat.

This is the biggest hotel in the city. Not just the biggest, the most elite. Who the fuck was this client?

A female attendant steps forward with a trail of workers following behind.

“Miss Sara Jane?” She calls.

“Yes,” I mutter, hardly paying her any attention.

She smiles, gesturing towards the building, “Please follow me. Miss Sandra is waiting.”

The workers immediately rush behind me and grab my luggage. I nod at them with a shy thank you.

The attendant leads me to the reception and for some reason, the staffs bows to me, flashing me such zealous service smile that I felt so sorry for their lips.

“Don't stress your cheeks so much people, this gal got no coin,” I mutter under my breath

We step into an elevator and few seconds later, the elevator chimes, gliding open to a luxurious hallway.

“Only the hotel owner stays here,” the attendant explains, “But it’s currently rented for his sibling’s engagement party.”

Engagement. My chest tightens. My therapist had said the word engagement triggered my PTSD of Jason's treacherous betrayal. I had tried fervently to escape that damned word but like a hydra, it rears a new ugly head after you think you've gotten rid of it.

Soon, we stop at a door and the attendant taps on it before stepping in. Sandra is on the phone, pacing back and forth, giving orders to the other end in her brisk, commanding voice. She nods at me while the workers quietly drop my bags and I nod back, closing the door behind me.

I lean to the wall and smile at her, watching her be the usual no nonsense boss, workers trembled upon hearing her name.

She’s my boss, my friend, my lifeline in New York. She's a hot blonde with striking blue eyes, dressed in a white singlet and baggy pants, jewelry glittering on both hands, possessing one trait that I could never have,

Confidence.

The call ends and she rushes forward and pulled me into a hug.

“I’ve missed you!”

“I missed you too,” I smile.

She pulls back, studying me.

“You’ve lost weight,” she says. I let out a deep breath, sighing,

“Work.”

She gives me a knowing look, crossing her arms, “Work or him?”

I grunt in frustration and walk past her, settling on one of the sofas, “You know I don't want to talk about him.”

Prior to the break up with Jason. He had warned that I shouldn't tell anyone we were dating, not even my mom. Sandra had tried to know who he was but I was so tight lipped. Now, we had gone seperate ways, I saw no need in telling her.

She looks at me for a moment, her face tightening into one of her mean boss looks before she finally lets out a deep breath, shaking her head.

“One of your worst mistakes,” she shrugs, “But fine. Let’s move on.”

I flash her a meek smile and then turn to the bed, my eyes taking sight of the beautiful gowns on it.

‘What are those for?” I ask, running my fingers down the crystals.

“Our client bought them,” She grins, “He’s hosting his junior brother’s engagement party. We’re attending.”

I groan. The word engagement was enough to trigger my PTSD, what more a real engagement party.

Just then, the doorbell rings and Sandra runs to it, pushing the knob open. A group of women storms in, carrying loads of bags and a wardrobe trunk.

With a look of excitement, Sandra turns to me, her eyes sparkling.

“What do you say to a makeover?” She says and I throw my head back on the sofa, grunting heavily

____________

Two Long Treacherous Hours Later…….

I stare into the mirror and gasp, the fragile woman I once knew disappearing into the mass of luxury.

In her place stands someone else. Someone breathtaking.

My once dull brown hair now flows in long, glossy waves. My grey eyes sparkles beneath diamond earrings. The silver V-neck crystal gown I wear clings perfectly to my body, revealing curves i never knew i possessed.

I look… powerful. Elegant. Gorgeous.

Sandra walks in, freezing on the spot, “Sara. You look… illegal.”

I laugh, closing a hand over my mouth, “You're exaggerating.”

“No,” she smirks, “You're about to ruin relationships tonight.”

A knock comes on the door and an attendant pokes a head inside,

“Miss Sandra,” she calls, “The party has started.”

We nod and follow the attendant, out the room and into an elevator. Few moments later, the elevator chimes open to a flight of stairs. The stairs descends to a dark hallway, illuminated with dim lit bulbs in the colors of blue, red and green.

The attendant gestures us to the stairs to which we walk down on, while she stays back, heading to the upper floor. We stop in front of two guards, guarding a door and the guards makes way for us without hesitation.

Sharing a look, Sandra and I step into the room, a bustling of activities going on. The party is what you could call, “a typical elite dinner event.” Cocktails, table for fours, dinner gowns, men on suits, wines, etc.

Sandra nudges at me, whispering something of going to find the client to which I barely react to before she slips away.

Shit. Now I'm alone.

I take a deep and clutch my purse firmly under my arm, walking into the room and as soon as I walk in, most of the guest pause.

“Who is she?”

“What family is she from?”

“She looks prettier than Mira, why have we never seen her before?”

My hands trembles beneath the attention and I quicken my paces, lowering my head when a familiar, mocking voice cut through the noise.

“Well, Well, Well, who do we have here?”

My body stiffen, my heart pounds like a war drum as I turn to see her.

Kayla.

Mira’s younger sister.

My high school tormentor.

She smirks cruelly, her eyes taking a sweep at me in condesending manner, “Which old man did you have to fuck to get an invitation?”

Cold floods my veins and my breath catches.

“Relax,” she gives a mocking grin, “Just curious.”

Someone calls her attention and I seize the chance and flee, walking so fast that I barely see where I'm headed when—

BAM!

I hit straight into someone’s back.

“I’m so sorry,” I rush to apologize and the man turns, my eyes widening at him.

“Sara?”

My breath catches, “Jason…”

And as if on cue, Sandra appears suddenly, shouting, “Sara, I’ve found our client!”

I barely tear my gaze away from Jason and turn to Sandra, when my heart pounds a heavy blow on seeing the man besides her.

Those unmistakable hazel green eyes piercing at me with dead pan expression.

Those unmistakable hazel green eyes of…

The man from the pool.

“Yo.. You?” I stammer.

“You?” the man grunts.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Jason ask, frowning deeply.

“Yes,” I snap, “What’s it to you?”

His expression darkens, “That’s my brother.”

“Y… Yo.. Your brother?” My world tilts, my heart skips multiple beats and I stagger back, almost collapsing to the floor.