Chapter 1: The Wrong Place,The Right Mistake
985 Words
Sofia Morales wasn’t supposed to be here. The invitation wasn’t even hers. It belonged to her best friend, Carmen, who swore she couldn’t miss the biggest gala of the year but had somehow convinced Sofia to take her place instead.
“It’s just a delivery,” Sofia had muttered to herself as she parked her beat-up sedan behind a row of gleaming black town cars outside the Westwood Estate. “Drop the pastries, smile politely, and leave.”
But now, standing under the glittering chandeliers of the ballroom, Sofia felt a knot of unease twist in her stomach. Carmen had insisted she wear the borrowed gown, a midnight-blue number that clung to her in ways she wasn’t used to. She’d even thrown in a pair of sky-high heels that Sofia was sure would be the death of her.
The guests around her shimmered in designer labels, dripping in jewels, their laughter melodic and rehearsed. Sofia clutched the pastry box tighter, praying no one noticed her. This wasn’t her world—it wasn’t even close.
The plan was simple: deliver the desserts to the catering staff and leave before anyone asked questions. But as she turned toward the kitchen, a server brushed past her, knocking her off balance. The box slipped from her hands, and she stumbled backward—straight into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne.
The crash was deafening. Glass shattered against the marble floor, golden liquid spraying in every direction. Gasps echoed through the room as heads turned to see what had caused the commotion.
Sofia froze, her cheeks burning as she stammered an apology. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
The voice was cold, sharp, and laced with irritation. Sofia turned, her heart plummeting to her stomach.
Standing before her was Alexander Westwood, the man who owned the estate—and half the city. Tall, with piercing blue eyes and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass, he looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine cover. But there was no warmth in his gaze as he stared at her, his perfectly tailored suit now marred by a dark stain of champagne.
“I-I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” Sofia blurted, mortified.
Alexander’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “Do you even know how much this suit costs?”
Sofia bristled. “Probably more than my car, but I’ll figure it out.”
The guests were still watching, whispering behind their champagne flutes. Alexander’s expression hardened. He leaned closer, his voice low but menacing. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”
Sofia’s mind raced. Carmen’s warning echoed in her head: If anyone asks, just say you’re with the catering staff. Don’t get caught.
“I’m...with the catering,” she lied, hoping her voice didn’t betray her.
Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Then why are you standing in the middle of my ballroom looking like you belong here?”
Before Sofia could respond, another voice cut in. “Mr. Westwood, is everything all right?”
It was a woman, tall and elegant, her blonde hair swept into a flawless updo. She looked at Sofia with barely concealed disdain before turning her attention to Alexander.
“Fine,” Alexander said curtly, but his gaze never left Sofia. “I’ll handle it.”
Sofia swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. She needed to get out of here before things got worse. “I’ll just—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Alexander said, his tone final. “Come with me.”
He turned on his heel and started walking toward the grand staircase at the edge of the room. Sofia hesitated, but the weight of the crowd’s stares made her feet move.
Her heels clicked against the marble as she followed him, every step feeling like a march to her doom. He led her into a private study, the door clicking shut behind them. The room was dark and imposing, lined with bookshelves and a massive mahogany desk.
“Now,” Alexander said, turning to face her. “Tell me the truth. Who are you?”
Sofia took a deep breath. She had two choices: lie again and risk digging herself deeper or come clean and hope for the best.
“I’m Sofia Morales,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I own a café downtown. I was just here to deliver pastries for the event, but my friend...she gave me an invitation, and I thought—”
“You thought you could waltz into my home and cause a scene?” Alexander interrupted, his tone icy.
“It was an accident!” Sofia snapped, her frustration boiling over. “I didn’t mean to ruin your party. I was just trying to leave!”
For a moment, Alexander said nothing. His piercing gaze studied her, as if weighing her every word. Then, to her surprise, he smirked.
“You’re either very bold or very foolish, Miss Morales.”
“Maybe both,” she shot back before she could stop herself.
The smirk widened into a full smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I like bold. Let’s see if it works in your favor.”
Sofia blinked, unsure what he meant. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you own a café,” Alexander said, walking toward his desk. “I assume it’s struggling. Small businesses usually are.”
Sofia bristled at his condescension but didn’t deny it.
“I have a proposal for you,” he said, turning back to her. “One that could save your café—and your dignity. But it comes with conditions.”
Sofia stared at him, her heart pounding. Whatever he was about to say, she had a feeling it was going to change her life forever.
- Writer
