My guardian demon

Aliyah

"Champagne, please," the woman with the diamond-studded necklace said, her voice a clipped, demanding tone.

"Coming right up, ma'am," I replied, hurrying away with a practiced smile. This party was a whirlwind of extravagance, a sea of swirling gowns and tuxedos, with every guest seeming to demand something at once. It was my job as a waitress to keep up, to fulfill their every whim, to ensure each champagne flute was filled to the brim with the perfect blend of bubbles.

Emma, our manager, had drilled it into us: no mistakes. These were the elite, the powerful, the ones who could make or break our company. One slip-up, one wrong order, and it could be disastrous.

A sigh escaped my lips, my shoulders slumping. Emma was right, I was prone to clumsiness, and this was no place for mistakes. I had to be sharp, alert, on my toes at all times. But tonight, I had more on my mind than just making sure the champagne flutes were filled.

I nodded, forcing a smile, and started distributing the drinks on my tray. I needed the money, of course, but there was a deeper reason for being here. I had promised my mother, promised my family, that I would find justice for my sister’s death. And Raige Victorious, the enigmatic heir to the Victorious empire, was rumored to be here, a shadow lurking in the shadows. But where to start? Two years I had searched, scoured the internet, chased every whisper, every rumor, every clue... yet he remained a phantom, a ghost. No social media presence, no leaked photos, no telltale online footprint. Only glowing articles praising his stunning looks and his meteoric rise to power at the helm of Victorious. It was like he vanished into thin air, leaving behind only a trail of whispers and rumors.

Lost in my thoughts, I was jolted back to reality by a voice that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Look who’s here to serve us.”

Hilda. The queen bee of my high school days, the epitome of entitled privilege, the most insufferable bully I’d ever encountered.

I was stunned. Some of my classmates were here, their faces tinged with a smug satisfaction that made me want to gag. I guess money did buy them a certain sense of entitlement, a disregard for boundaries. I, on the other hand, had clawed my way into Valerians University on a scholarship, fueled by sheer determination and a hunger for knowledge.

Hilda smirked, her eyes glittering with malicious amusement. "Here," she said, pushing a glass of champagne towards me, "Have some of the drinks you serve us. I'm sure you haven't tried them yet, since they're so expensive."

I wanted to refuse, to shake my head and tell her to go away. I didn't want to drink, not to mention it went against company policy. Besides, Hilda had a notorious habit of getting blotto. But I knew if I refused, she wouldn't let up, wouldn't stop her petty torment. So, I reluctantly took the glass, forcing a smile. I'd known Hilda long enough, been classmates with her for years, to know what kind of person she was, and what she was capable of.

After a few forced sips, I was about to excuse myself when, with a theatrical flourish, Hilda spilled her glass, the liquid cascading onto my dress. My breath hitched. I knew it was deliberate.

"Oops, sorry, not sorry," Hilda sneered, her laughter echoing through the room. Her friends joined in, their mocking guffaws ringing in my ears. Humiliated, I fled, my face burning with shame. The red wine stain on my pristine white polo was now a stark reminder of the humiliation.

“What happened to you?” Lexis, my coworker, asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Oh, nothing," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just a clumsy customer spilled their drink on me."

Lexis chuckled. "Seriously? Go take care of yourself. You’re practically done with your shift anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll handle Emma."

Relief flooded through me. “Thank you, Lexis," I whispered, grateful for her kindness. She was a lifesaver.

I hurried towards the restrooms, dodging the throng of elegantly-dressed partygoers. The first floor, where my team was stationed, was out of the question. I couldn’t let Emma see me in this state. The second floor it was.

"Ugh, where is this darn restroom?" I muttered, my frustration mounting. This mansion was a labyrinth, an endless maze of opulent rooms.

I tried door after door, grateful for the empty hallways. Everyone must be at the party. My head throbbed, a dull ache from the champagne I’d been forced to drink. I desperately needed to splash some water on my face.

Bag clutched tightly in my hand, I slipped into the last room on the hallway. The door creaked open, revealing a scene that stole my breath. It was a room unlike any I'd ever seen before, a haven of luxury, elegance, and sheer opulence. It felt like a first-class hotel suite, a sanctuary of comfort and style. If I had a room like this, I'd never want to leave. It was like stepping into a dream. The air held a distinctly masculine scent, leaving me curious about its owner. Whoever he was, he must be at the party, leaving this haven open for me, at least for now.

“I need to find Raige," I whispered to myself, glancing around the luxurious room. "He has to be somewhere in this mansion. Emma wouldn't reveal the host family's identity, but I have a gut feeling he's here. After my sister's death, I discovered that the catering company she worked for had a strict policy of secrecy regarding the parties they served. It was to prevent anyone with ill intentions from knowing the details. Maybe they were also trying to avoid another tragedy like the one that took my sister.”

I couldn't resist the temptation. The bed, a massive expanse of plush, dark blue velvet, beckoned me. I sank into its depths, a sigh escaping my lips as I surrendered to its comforting embrace. I knew I should be searching, that every minute wasted could be a minute closer to Raige. But exhaustion, like a tidal wave, swept over me. I closed my eyes, my head sinking into the soft pillows, and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Unbeknownst to Aliyah, the owner of the room, Raige, was also seeking solace from the relentless monotony of the party. He’d retreated to his sanctuary, locking the world out, desperate for a moment of peace.