His Accidental Heiress

Elena’s POV

My eyes follow him up the stairs until his tall frame disappears from view. Even then, I angle my head, still staring at the first landing of the stairs a full minute after he left.

“Waiting for someone?” the lanky guy questions casually, nodding towards the glass of water still in my hands.

Right. I gulp it down just as I did with the liquor and slide it over to him. I doubt it is going to do anything right now, but I desperately hope it works because the last thing I want is to be drunk in a room filled with strangers.

Where the hell did Elizabeth go?

“I’m Elliot,” he murmurs, angling his head.

“Elena.”

“I know.”

“What?”

He chuckles again as my attention returns fully to him. I study him under the dim lights. He has boyish features and charm, but I can tell he is much older. I can see it in his eyes, the gaze of someone who knows more than they let on.

But unlike the grey-eyed man, he is warm and actually friendly.

“You work at Café Black,” he continues, filling two red cups and handing one over to me.

I shake my head. “I’ve had enough for one night.”

“It’s red wine,” Elliot says. “This should be easier for you to consume.”

I accept it, even though I know he is wrong. I have a very low tolerance for alcohol consumed in any form. It doesn't matter that red wine doesn't contain as much alcohol as vodka. It has the same effect on me.

But Elliot doesn’t have to know that. I am hoping Elizabeth will be back soon so we can head home. I have to be at the café tomorrow.

"You frequent there?" I ask, taking a sip. I really doubt it. I would have noticed him, seeing as sometimes, the manager makes me attend to every single customer. He hates me. I have to give him that. But I can't complain because he signs my paycheck.

Elliot shakes his head.

“I own it.”

The red cup is in between my lips when he says that, and my head jerks backwards, taking in too much at once. I start coughing, and Elliot grabs the cup from me, placing it gingerly on the counter. Then, his hand comes down on my back, patting gently.

“I guess I should have given you that information in bits,” he chuckles.

“No.” I shake my head and clear my throat. He retrieves his hand just as I sit straight again. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

What if I had said something bad about the manager? Or worse, called it a shabby place. I would have been fired before tomorrow morning without even knowing the reason.

“It is one of my babies.” He seems fond of it. I wonder if he knows how his manager runs it. But the only thing I can think of right now is how Elliot is my boss and I have been dared to kiss him.

The rest of the group has returned to playing the game, but I can still feel their eyes on me at intervals. They are waiting.

I can’t do this.

“What is on your mind?” Elliot pushes slowly.

I shake my head.

“Come on,” he drawls. “You don’t have to act differently towards me just because I am your boss. And I don’t even like calling myself that. It’s the reason I leave staff matters to my manager. To you, tonight, I can just be Elliot.”

My lips open and close in rapid succession. What am I supposed to say?

“I can see it in your eyes,” he continues. “You came from that group over there, so let me guess. You were dared to kiss me?”

“Close,” I whisper. “I was dared to kiss you and then get your number.”

"But you don't have to do any of that," I add quickly, shaking my hands in his face for emphasis. "I don't mind losing the dare and having them make me do whatever they want me to do. You don't have to…."

“Do you know what they will make you do, Elena?”

I look at him wide-eyed.

“You will be dared to stand on a table and dance for the whole of the room to see, and that is if you are even allowed to do it clothed.”

I swallow. “What kind of ….”

"They are very passionate about their games. A piece of advice. Next time, when you come here, don't join them. They made their own rules for the game because it works for them. I don't think it does for you."

“I don’t think it does, either,” I murmur, my gaze going back to the spot he was seated a while ago.

I don’t know what is wrong with me. I need to stop thinking about those gray eyes.

“Here,” he starts, hooking a finger on my chin. “And I’ll give you my number too.”

When his lips come down on mine, it is nothing like the explosion I have heard is associated with first kisses. Elliot feels warm and kind, and his lips taste of the same red wine as mine. It is slightly intoxicating, but he pulls away before anything can form.

I touch my chest, waiting for my heart to race. It is racing, but not from this kiss, not from Elliot. He reaches out for a napkin and retrieves a pen from his pocket, scribbling his number into it.

“You can call me if you like.”

I laugh. “Thank you, Elliot.”

A tall blonde lady walks into the room with a lot of brightness in her eyes. She heads over to us, but has her eyes on Elliot. Understanding, I get off the stool and walk away, but I do not join the circle.

Instead, I go up the stairs, trying to find a bathroom. With all that alcohol in my system, it is bound to happen at some point.

"Are you lost, pretty girl?" a man drawls from the hallway upstairs.

“Bathroom,” I squeak.

He points to a door down the hallway, and I scurry in that direction. But when I push the door open, what jumps back at me does in no way resemble a bathroom.