A night of Stars

Before her mirror, she stood, Ella Jameson, looking at her reflection. The dress she had picked out was a simple yet elegant deep blue which fitted correctly in all the needed positions. She applied makeup to her face with an experienced hand and tried to paint away the butterflies in her stomach.

Tonight was the charity gala at Waldorf Astoria and it was destined as a social calendar’s highlight for many people who were to be present there. As a journalist, Ella has been through similar events before this time though this time around felt differently. It was like floating between something that could make or break my career.

His leather seat was cold against his tailored suit’s skin so Alexander Knight sat at the rear of his limousine. He peered through his window for the landscape moving by him and buildings reaching into the darkness of the twilight sky. He had gone to many galas before but he didn’t find any happiness in them; they were obligatory things that a role of an untouchable billionaire demanded from him.

The car pulled up to the hotel and Alexander got out of it, greeted by flashes of cameras as if he were meeting an old ally. He fixed his links on his sleeves that shone bright because of the diamonds, and walked into the hotel.

The whole auditorium was a field of luxury filled with guests who sat under a chandelier light that glowed warmly. She felt her heart race as she went in. She had her notepad clutched, like a life-line in a place that was never hers.

Their eyes met across the room; Ella’s body tingled with something more than recognition. He is here to unmask Alexander Knight –the person she came for and make sure that his secrets are exposed.

“Would you care for a drink?” asked Alexander over the noise of the crowd.

To her surprise, she turned around to find him by her side. “I am not used to drinking when I am working,” she replied without revealing any emotion in her voice.

He replied, his eyes on hers, "One drink won't harm you. Think of it as a professional favor."

She paused and then agreed. "Okay, one drink."

They walked to the bar with glasses clinking and people talking in the background.

"Miss Jameson," Alexander started as he handed her champagne, "what's your reason for being in this tricky place?"

Ella tasted her drink and looked at him straight. "I might ask you the same," she answered.

"I own this place," he said smiling a little.

"I'm here to write about it," she replied, her look daring him.

The music got louder filling the space. He offered his hand. "Dance with me," Alexander stated more than asking.

Ella put her hand in his and his warm touch made her shiver. They went to the dance area and it felt like they were the only two people there.

"You're different from everyone else," said Alexander while they danced, with his hand on her back.

And you're?" Ella countered, her breath catching as she regarded up at him.

"Perhaps not," he conceded, a flicker of something real in his eyes.

The dance ended, however the connection lingered. They parted with a promise, unstated however understood. Ella watched him walk away, the reminiscence of his touch burning on her skin.

She needs to have left then, must have walked far from the magic of the night. But as she glanced lower back at the ballroom, she knew it changed into too overdue. She became already caught in his web, and there was no turning return.

The night time wore on, the gala a blur of faces and laughter. Ella found herself at Alexander's facet once more, the pull among them plain.

"Tell me a secret," she whispered, caught up within the second.

Alexander leaned in, his lips a breath far away from hers. "I'm frightened of heights," he confessed, his voice a low rumble.

Ella laughed, the sound mild and proper. "That's not a secret."

"It is whilst you very own the tallest building within the town," he answered, his gaze severe.

The second stretched, charged with opportunity. Then, without caution, Alexander closed the gap, his lips taking pictures of hers in a kiss that stole her breath away.

Ella's thoughts screamed for her to pull lower back, to recollect who she turned into, who he became. But her frame betrayed her, melting into his include, her hands tangling in his hair.

The kiss was a promise, a passion for something forbidden and intoxicating. When they finally parted, Ella was left with a headache as if she had fallen from a great height and was still waiting to land.

"Goodnight, Miss Jameson," Alexander said, his voice a kiss still on her skin.

"Good night, Mr. Knight," she said as she watched him leave, the sound of his secret and the memory of her kiss burning in her mind.

Ella knew she had to escape the spell of the night before it swallowed her up. But when she looked around the theater, the world was about to recede, she realized it was too late. She was already under his spell, and there was no turning back.

As the night wore on, the excitement of the party faded into whispers, and guests began to escape into the cool embrace of the city. Ella found herself caught in Alexander’s web of attraction, her journalism battling with the growing passion stirred by his proximity.

Alexander reappears, his silhouette a dark promise behind the fading crowd. "The night is young, Miss Jameson," he said in a velvet deceptive voice. "And the best stories are found not in the light of a ballroom, but in the shadows that linger in the distance."

Ella's heart beat faster, her determination burning like wax in her flame. She followed him past smiling and ghostly perfume trails to the private elevator that led to the hotel’s top deck

The doors closed, sealing them into a world, where the only sound was their heartbeat, the gentle rumble of the elevator rising and Ella's breath hitched as Alexander approached, her body heat an impossible magnetic force standing in the mouth.

At the test threshold, the elevator dinged, announcing their arrival. The doors opened to reveal a realm of opulence, the lights of the city shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows like distant stars

Alexander led her to the balcony, where the night air was warm and the view was wonderful. "I'm not afraid of heights," he admitted, his eyes fixed in the sky. "It's a fall."

Ella stood beside him, her hand touching his. "Then let's not fall," he whispered in a steady voice despite the commotion.

He turned to her, barriers were crumbling, and back then, they weren’t billionaires and journalists. They were just Alex and Ella, two souls wandering through the vastness of the night.

Their lips met again, this time with a hunger that words couldn’t capture. It was a kiss that spoke of longing and discovery, sharing secrets, and breaking down walls.

They retreated inside, where the world collapsed, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the tumble of falling curtains. The night took hold of them, their bodies dancing as old as time, each movement an ecstatic bouncing, each telling a word of the collective narrative.