Chapter 6-A Touch of The Past

*Aryanna*

I couldn’t help but revel in the sight of Lisa squirming beneath the weight of Darren’s piercing gaze. Her face, a mask of dread, revealed her deep-seated fear that he understood—understood too much for someone she thought incoherent. The tension in the air thickened, crackling like static as I watched her composure fray, each twitch and flinch betrayed her mounting panic. It was clear she hadn’t anticipated him to be so alert, so painfully aware. Even the residue of clarity in his eyes burned with disdain, sharpening the edges of his expression into something cold and unforgiving. It was as if his awareness had become a weapon to dismantle her carefully constructed armor.

The hotel manager’s posture suddenly tightened. “My apologies, Mr. Miller. I received a call originating from the king suite about a possible burglary and was instructed to investigate every suite on this floor.”

Darren’s head swayed slightly before he straightened with a sharp look. “Burglary?” he chafed cynically.

Darren’s eyes pierced back to Lisa, and she visibly wilted, her gaze falling to the ground.

“Get out!” he barked.

His voice was like a clap of thunder that sent him scurrying out of the room with his tail tucked between his legs. Darren edged toward Lisa, and we both expected an outburst of fury. Instead, he towered over her like a dark storm cloud with her eyes fixed on the floor as she remained stuck where she could. Too afraid to even breathe with her lips folded tightly, her eyes clamped shut for a few suspenseful moments.

It was a silence that screamed, the anticipation of his next move hanging heavy between us all, making every second feel stretched into an eerie eternity.

“I will say this once only,” he began, his voice like a chilling whisper that extinguished the warmth that had once existed in the room. “This serves as both your ultimate admonition. Should you dare to repeat such folly, you will deeply regret it.”

Lisa blubbered like a fish, trying to strangle her sounds of fear as her chin trembled. Darren turned his back on her and managed to shuffle a few steps. He paused and glanced back at her like he was surprised she was still standing there—paralyzed by the dread weighing her down.

“What are you still doing here? Leave.”

Lisa flinched and whirled around, rushing for the main door before it clicked close. Darren wavered as if the weight of his resolve had become too heavy to bear, a fragile façade threatening to crack. He staggered a few uneven steps, each movement a battle against the invisible forces that scrambled his senses, before he succumbed, dropping to a lunge. Instinct kicked in, and I lurched forward, ready to reach out, but he steadied himself, pushing back up with a fierce determination that silenced my impulse.

It was only then that I registered the absence of the siren. The abrupt stillness enveloped us, amplifying the tension in the air and ringing in my ears like the tolling of a death knell. The silence was more oppressive than the piercing wail that had been.

It would’ve been quite scandalous—I mean, the press would have had a field day if anyone caught sight of him like this. I could only imagine the fallout if leaked images of Darren Miller circulated in the media. He was disheveled, his shirt undone, and stumbling about like a disorientated drunkard.

It would have been an occurrence that could drag his name through the dirt.

I flinched at the sound of a hard thud. Darren had slipped, and both knees smacked against the floor. Without a second thought, I rushed to his side. I found him momentarily paused on all fours, a strange sight of vulnerability and struggle.

My hand pressed gently against his damp back, seeking a steady grip, while my other hand encircled the taut column of his arm, feeling the tremors coursing through him. His skin was clammy, slick with sweat that soaked through the fabric of his unbuttoned white shirt, rendering it nearly translucent. The outline of his muscles bunched and shifted beneath the damp material as he strained to lift himself into an upright position. I could feel the heat radiating from him, mingling with the weight of his effort.

I tried to heave him back to his full height. I tried to silence the sensations barrelling at me from even the most idle brush of skin, the feel of his flesh even beneath my bare hands. Even the most innocent contact felt like a spark setting my nerves ablaze with a fervor I struggled to tame. I tried to control what was impossible to contain.

Once he was on his feet again, I drew back, but he clasped a stern, almost desperate hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his simple touch pulsed like a living heartbeat, a tether to a world I longed to escape yet couldn’t bear to relinquish. He willed himself to look back at me. His eyes skimmed over my uniform, and he naturally assumed I was just a waiter at the hotel.

“Why?” he croaked, his voice rough like a parched man. “Why help me?”

I could barely meet his gaze, so I kept my sight just below eye level.

I summoned my voice and said, “It was the right thing to do,” I said and then quickly added, “Sir.”

He removed his hand, and a small breath of relief escaped me as if an unbearable heft foisted upon me had lifted. Darren washed his face with his hands until a flush of red inflamed his face. He took a moment to himself to gather what thoughts he could.

“I have to get out of her,” he muttered, bringing his hand to his forehead. “I need you to call him.”

“Who?”

Darren patted himself down, feeling his pockets. “I swear it was just in there…”

“What was?” I asked.

“My phone.”

My eyes darted to the ground, scanning until I found the black device.

“Found it,” I said as I hurried toward it. It had likely slipped out when he fell.

Darren fumbled his way to the closest wall to slam a hand on the surface for stability.

“I need you to call him—Nathan, my personal aide. No one can know what happened here. I need to leave, and Nathan will know what to do.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why he wanted to keep this ordeal quiet.

If he didn’t, the news would make the headlines that the CEO of Miller Corporation was effortlessly incapacitated, that this alarming incident would become fodder for the internet, and the repercussions for the company would be catastrophic.

The trust between the corporation and its stakeholders would be irrevocably challenged, leading to a considerable erosion of confidence among investors, employees, and clients alike. The narrative surrounding the organization would shift drastically, casting a shadow of vulnerability over its leadership.

In a world where perception was often as critical as reality, the ramifications could reverberate through the market, resulting in a substantial decline in stock value. The company’s reputation would hang precariously in the balance, inviting scrutiny and skepticism that could linger long after the initial shock has subsided.

There was a dark desire that tugged at me.

I almost wanted to call the press myself and provide them with irrefutable evidence. I would have a front-row seat, watching the ruination of Miller Corporation firsthand. However, that would undermine the intricacy of the plan I had worked on too long and too hard, just to permit it to be undercut by a simple phone call or photo.

I had to stay on target, and that was gaining Darren’s trust.

So I did as was asked and called the last number on the call log: Nathan—PA.

The line barely had time to ring before he answered with the swift and curt response of a devout soldier.

Nathan had met me before—briefly, but still, I felt inclined to disguise my voice. “Greetings, I am contacting you from the king suite of the hotel, as per the request of your superior. There has been a development… a rather pressing situation, and he needs you urgently.”

A spike of panic in his voice. “A situation?”

“He needs you urgently,” I repeated.

“Right, tell him to stay where he is. I’ll be right there.”

The call dropped, and I turned to face Darren again. He had his head bowed, his dark hair like ink dripping over his forehead. The tension in his body was palpable. His hand was still braced against the wall, fingers splayed as if searching for support. A vulnerable stillness enveloped him, making it hard to ignore the slither of sympathy.

“Nathan said he is on his way,” I relayed, fluttering the phone in my hand in emphasis. “But for now, we should probably get you to bed so you can rest for a bit.”

He couldn’t even argue because even he reckoned that he was in no position to.

He just conceded a stiff nod. Darren raised his other arm out expectantly—a silent request.

I braced myself for contact, readying myself for yet another whirlwind of feelings.

With his phone still in my hand, I drew closer until I was at his side, our bodies aligning seamlessly like two interlocking puzzle pieces. As his arm laced around my shoulders, a surge of warmth radiated between us. He finally released the wall, surrendering to the quiet act of trust, allowing me to be his sole support. The weight of his reliance pressed against me, an oddly comforting burden as he tried to ground himself, trying to grapple with the clamor swirling in his mind.

Eventually, we reached the master suite. I carefully lowered him onto the edge of the bed. I moved away, yet the moment I made the mistake of looking into his eyes, I was ensnared—plunged into the depths of a boundless void where memories lay dormant. His stare stirred an emotion that threatened to consume me whole, drowning me in nostalgia and unsaid words. I felt the weight of our untold history bearing down.

Fate truly had a sense of humor.

It was him who fell before me, but in the not-so-distant long ago, it was me who fell before him.

The first time I encountered this specter of a man I thought I once knew was during a winter wrapped in a thick blanket of snow. The road was slick and glistening beneath the frosty glaze, which felt treacherous beneath my feet, each step a peril.

As I descended the stairs, my foot caught on the edge. For a heartbeat, I felt gravity's cruel tug as I began to slip. And just as I teetered on the brink of disaster, a firm arm wrapped around my waist, halting my descent. I glanced up, my heart racing, and was met by the intense gaze of the stranger who had saved me.

His eyes were a striking shade, piercing through the dim light like shards of glass reflecting the sun. They held an intensity that caught me off guard, a depth that seemed to see right through me.

And even with his eyes clouded by a haze, that same intensity still broke through.

“You should rest,” I whispered, almost inaudibly.

His tone indistinguishable between hope and simple curiosity, he asked, “Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Rest and find out.”

Darren shifted back sluggishly and lifted his legs to recline back on the bed. The moment his head met with the pillow, his eyes drooped, and his head lolled before being caught by sleep.

After all this… I still failed.

I was at square one again. Yes, I met Darren, but I didn’t get to leave a lasting impression because it’s likely he would have no memory of any of it. And because of that—thanks to that wretched Lisa—it was evident that I did not have the opportunity to discuss the potential for collaboration, let alone attempt to persuade him to reestablish his affiliation with the firm.

I could wait until he was awake and sober-minded, but that was a risk. It could lead to questions I couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. And I didn't even know how I’d react to Darren at his full force.

Instead, I shot Nathan a text on his phone that he could find his boss in the bedroom. With that done, I placed Darren's phone on his bedside table and used the opportunity to slip away like a ghost. I had been away for a while, and I was sure Jim was getting angsty in my absence.

I returned to the elevator with the route back to the kitchen mapped out in my head. On my way there, a cluster of servers was inbound, and I kept my head down. When we were about to pass each other, they flicked a quick, respectful nod in greeting. I snapped a nod back in response. I found my way to the kitchen and spotted Shelley. I ducked past a few workers as I made my way to her. She traded a few words with a chef as she picked up a tray with two glasses and an expensive bottle of vintage.

“Shel!”

Her head whipped in my direction, and her jaw slung open when she saw me coming. Shelley looked around her and grabbed the closest, seemingly idle server in radius. She gestured to the tray and bargained with the boy to deliver it to her designated table. He gave in with not much persuasion as he took the tray and filed away with the other string of servers.

“I’m surprised everyone’s still in the building after the sirens went off,” I whispered furtively.

Shelley looped her arm with mine and led us out of the kitchen. “It was declared a false alarm not long after, but they did announce the event is ending sooner than what was mandated.”

I nodded fervently. “Good, it gives me time to blend back in.”

“I’m guessing you need your gown back?”

I gave another fervent nod.

“Let’s go,” she said, breaking into a brisk start. “So? Are you telling me that psycho actually got away with drugging a CEO?”

“I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I get out of here.”

When we made it back to the locker room, I started stripping, untying the apron as we made our way to her locker. Shelley unlocked it and took out my bundled gown, unfolding it with a flourish. When I was ready, all I had to do was take it and slip it back on before I fixed my feet into my heels. Shelley mused my hair, trying to mend the stray wisps as I put my phone back into my clutch bag.

“Am I good?” I asked.

She checked my face and hair like an artist examining their canvas. “No one will suspect a thing.”

Shelley escorted me back to the ballroom. When we made our approach, we diverged like we were never in contact. Once my eyes honed in on Jim, I quickly sidled his flank. He looked back at me with his eyes swelling with surprise. He drew me closer to him smoothly, placing his hand on the small of my back as he leaned in for a private whisper.

“And where have you been?” he questioned with a cordial smile.

“Lady’s room,” I said as I laid a polite hand on his shoulder. “Then I bumped into an old associate and one thing led to another.”

He nodded understandingly and didn’t probe any deeper. “When the sirens went off and I couldn’t find you, I was worried.”

I looked back into his eyes earnestly. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to cause an alarm—no pun intended.”

He cracked into a begrudging smile.

“Did you catch any sightings of Mr. Miller?”

His smile vanished as he shook his head. “No. I’ve been asking around, and no one has seen him, but he was here earlier. I don’t know… something must’ve come up.”

My brows quirked. “Or went down,” I mumbled to myself.

“What?”

“When is it done—the event?” I asked louder.

The banquet culminated shortly after. As the tide of elitists flowed out of the hotel, my arm was hooked around Jim like an older man with his young mistress. I could see the car waiting at the entrance and the driver standing outside with the backseat door open. We made our way down. Out of nowhere, someone intercepted us. It was a man Jim knew because they gave each other a handshake before pulling close into a hug, clapping their hands on each other’s backs.

“It was so good to see you, Brian,” Jim said warmly and then reached for me again. “And this was the promising young woman I was telling you and your wife about. This is Aryanna Kyle, a rising star at my firm.”

I freshened a worn-out smile. “Pleasure to meet you.” I pivoted to lay a quick hand on Jim’s arm. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

I moved away. Just when I stepped off the last step, I heard a startling sound.

“I know you,” said a familiar, feminine voice.

I stopped, unsure of what to do. She couldn’t possibly be talking to me.

“You in the green gown,” she said in an accusatory voice.

I was wrong.

I turned around slowly to see Lisa glaring back at me with anger abounding in her eyes.