REJECTED BY MY EX, DOTED BY HIS BOSS

The grandeur of the elite party unfolded in the opulent mansion, the air laced with a symphony of laughter, tinkling glasses, and the subtle murmur of conversations. Malik, impeccably dressed, led me through the glittering crowd towards a duo that commanded attention.

"Zara, Zara, Zara, looking gorgeous as always," Malik greeted with a flourish, his charm amplified by the grandeur of the setting. Zara, a short, stout light-skinned woman in her late sixties, exuded an air of sophistication. Her eyes, framed by subtle laugh lines, sparkled with a wisdom earned through years of experience. Malik, ever the charismatic host, bowed slightly and brought Zara's hand to his lips, delivering a delicate kiss to her palm. The gesture was both respectful and familiar, a dance of etiquette mastered through countless encounters.

"I see why you denied my offer," a slender lady standing beside Zara remarked, her visible wrinkles and baggy eyes accentuated by the bold strokes of blue eyeshadow. He responded with a gentle laugh, turning his attention to her as he repeated the gesture of kissing the lady's hand. The room seemed to pause momentarily, capturing the essence of a bygone era of elegance.

"So, who is this beauty?" Zara inquired, her gaze shifting to me with an astute curiosity. As he began to introduce me, I stepped forward, offering a warm smile.

 "I'm Emma Sinclair, a friend," I interjected, choosing simplicity over complexity.

Zara's eyes crinkled in a smile as she extended her hand. "Emma Sinclair, a pleasure to meet you. Malik has quite the eye for choosing company. Don't you worry, my dear, you're in good hands."

I thanked her with a nod, appreciating the warmth in her welcome. The atmosphere of the party continued to swirl around us, a kaleidoscope of elegant attire, masked faces, and the gentle hum of conversations that held the promise of intriguing connections. Just as our exchange settled into a comfortable rhythm, he excused himself with a gracious smile.

 "I'll be back in a moment, ladies. Excuse me." With that, he navigated the lively crowd, disappearing momentarily into the throng of guests.

As he left, Zara turned her attention back to me, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. "So, Emma, how did you find yourself in the orbit of our charismatic host?"

I chuckled, feeling a camaraderie in her presence. "Fate, perhaps. Life has a way of surprising us, doesn't it?"

Zara's laughter echoed, a melodic note in the symphony of the elite gathering. "Indeed, my dear. Let's enjoy the delights tonight has in store."

The chaotic symphony of clattering plates and hurried footsteps enveloped the kitchen as Malik pursued the elusive figure through the labyrinth of stainless steel and bustling chefs. The man, Arjun, left chaos in his wake, hurling plates to the ground in a desperate attempt to slow down his relentless pursuer. For a brief moment, Malik closed the distance, his hand wrapping around Arjun's neck in a vice-like grip. A blow was delivered, the impact reverberating through the kitchen. However, Arjun, resilient and determined, retaliated with a swift counterattack. He managed to break free from Malik's hold, leaving both men momentarily catching their breath in the whirlwind of the kitchen.

"Pray to your God I don't catch you, Arjun," Malik warned, his voice laced with a potent mixture of anger and determination.

Without hesitation, Arjun bolted towards the back door, disappearing into the alley. The clatter of his footsteps echoed through the narrow passage as Malik, undeterred, pursued him with unwavering resolve. The tension escalated as the pursuit reached a critical juncture. Then, in the stillness of the alley, a single gunshot shattered the air. Arjun, shocked, came to an abrupt halt. His hand instinctively went to his chest, where warmth met his fingertips. Horror painted his face as he looked down to find blood staining his clothes. He fell to his knees, the cold alley ground offering little comfort as he grappled with the searing pain in his chest. Malik, his demeanor unwavering, confidently approached, standing tall before the wounded man. The metallic click of a gun being cocked resonated through the alley, and a sinister smile crept across Malik's face.

"Who did you sell my goods to, Arjun?" Malik's voice cut through the tense air.

Arjun clicked his tongue in defiance, a feeble attempt at maintaining his bravado. In response, a heavy blow from Malik interrupted his breath, momentarily stealing his words. As he caught his breath, he defiantly retorted, "Kiss my ass." In the dimly lit alley, the palpable anger on Malik's face was visible even through the shadows. Without uttering another word, Malik began to walk away, leaving Arjun bewildered on his knees.

"I considered you a brother," Malik's voice echoed back, a poignant reminder of the betrayal that had shattered the bonds of trust.

As Malik distanced himself from the wounded and fallen Arjun, a black minivan pulled up abruptly, its engine humming softly in the quiet alley. With swift efficiency, the van's occupants scooped up Arjun, whisking him away into the night.

Malik discreetly handed the gun to one of the servants standing outside the kitchen backdoor, ensuring that the weapon was concealed from the prying eyes of the partygoers. Returning to the lively ambiance of the elite gathering, he seamlessly blended back into the festivities. As he rejoined the party, he spotted Emma seated at a table, engaged in the laughter prompted by a comedian on the stage. She sat among Zara and her friends, accompanied by their respective male companions. 

The moment I saw Malik approaching, I smiled warmly and gestured to the chair next to her, inviting him to join. The comedian continued to regale the audience with humor, drawing genuine laughter from the elite crowd. However, despite the entertaining atmosphere, my mind seemed preoccupied. I couldn't help but feel a growing desire to retreat from the glittering facade of the party and seek solace in the quiet embrace of home. As the comedian delivered another punchline, he leaned in and softly asked, "Would you like to go home?" His words, a subtle invitation to escape the festivities, resonated with my silent yearning. Without hesitation, I nodded, a grateful smile illuminating my face. The decision made, he stood up, offering his hand to me. Together, we gracefully excused ourselves from the table, bidding farewell to Zara and the others. The night air outside the mansion greeted us as we made our way to the awaiting car. The elite party continued behind them, the laughter and music gradually fading into the distance.

The engine came to life and we left the mansion. The city lights blurred outside the tinted windows, casting a mesmerizing glow that mirrored the nebulous emotions swirling within me. I stole glances at him, silently appreciating the understanding he had shown. The car smoothly navigated through the night, and as we approached his place, a sense of relief washed over me. The familiar surroundings offered a sanctuary from the glamorous chaos of the elite party. We arrived at the entrance, and he accompanied me to her door hand in hand.

"Thank you," I expressed.

He nodded, his gaze holding a silent reassurance. "Anytime, Emma. If you ever need an escape, I'm here."