Chapter Text
“Lightning!”
“Lightning, over here!”
“Lightning, What do you have to say about Ivan’s comments?!”
“Lightning! will you make an appearance in the new Codex Rush film?”
“Are the news of you and Ivan true?” A woman—probably a tabloid journalist—lunged the mic in her face as she walked out of the building, surrounded on each side by crowds of people and the flashing lights of cameras, the only thing stopping them from reaching her were the security guards standing in front of each stanchion.
Lightning ignored all the questions that were thrown her way, be they about her personal life or work projects, she wasn’t in the mood for any of the pesky reporters that keep invading her privacy, especially at a time like this; a time of controversy, their favorite...
“We will not be taking any questions today!” Her manager, Lilian, tried, but they were unrelenting with their questions. Lilian was a petite older lady with sharp features, her blonde hair was often pinned in a neat bun and she always had her glasses perched low on her nose. Lightning bodyguard stuck to her side, an arm hovering protectively over her frame, his other arm swatting away any intruding mics that were shoved in her face. Some of the award show’s security flanked them for extra protection. The car was a few meters away, it was a beautiful, black Bentley Mulsanne with blacked out windows, one that she chose herself. More security guards stood beside each door, in case someone attempts to go around the stanchions.
Questions bombarded her from every direction, and the people’s voices were only getting louder. The camera flashes were relentless and almost blinding, even with her sunglasses on. It was midnight but Lightning hated those bright lights; they’d always been harsh on her sensitive eyes. Lavish sunglasses had become her signature accessory, her personal trademark. Her manager always carried two extra pairs, knowing they’ll get swarmed by cameras the moment they set foot outside.
The security opened the door for her and her manager, both of them quickly ducked inside with Lightning going in first. Her bodyguard got in the passenger seat once he made sure she was safe inside. Quickly, the cameras swarmed the car, the flashes protruding through the front window, trying to get an angle of Lightning who was leaning into the door, not wanting to be seen. The security rushed them out of the way, not fully…but enough for the car to drive off.
Once they got further away from the crowds, her manager breathed out. “I’m really sorry about this, Lightning. I’ll be contacting Ivan’s team immediately. This is unacceptable.”
“That prick!” Lightning almost punched the back of the seat in front of her. Her balled fists trembled with the anger she’s been suppressing all evening. Although, she didn't do a good enough job of that. She's been glaring daggers at everyone more than usual. And her brows had been furrowed even as she accepted her award. Currently, her fingers fiddled with the diamond ring on her right hand, a nervous habit she’d yet to shake.
The supermodel took the large fur shawl off her shoulders, her neck was starting to itch, or maybe the irritation made her hypersensitive, that bastard just had to mess up her evening.
Right before the Celestia Awards, Ivan, a co-star playing Lightning’s romantic interest in her latest film—had been interviewed by Celebrity Zone News (CZN,) one of the most popular entertainment media outlets that focuses on the latest celebrity news, gossip, controversy, and basically anything that served for a good headline. For some reason she couldn't understand, he thought it was fitting to lie about the nature of their relationship, hinting at something more between them. The two weren’t dating, in fact, she didn’t even consider him a friend let alone a lover, he was just a coworker to her. Nothing ever happened outside of work, so he was blatantly lying, and it infuriated her to no end. And even if they were together, he had no right to publicize the news without her consent.
She was on the red carpet, posing for dozens of cameras when one of her assistants pulled her aside urgently. "Don't answer any questions about Ivan," the woman had instructed the confused model. "Ivan? Ivan Hollin?" Lightning asked, her eyes darting around her assistant's face looking for an answer she would not find. "Just… divert them for now."
The reporters that lined up along the red carpet fired off questions about her and Ivan during the entirety of the press line interviews, and all she could do was avoid answering, still confused by the sudden barrage of these questions.
The car made its way through the streets, each turn smooth and barely felt, her manager was typing on her laptop wildly, most probably sending frantic emails and messages to Ivan’s team and manager. "We'll probably need to put out a statement."
Lightning stayed silent, watching the buildings and cars move by. Her muted phone sat abandoned on her lap, not wanting to see the messages, comments, and posts being sent her way from both friends, colleagues, and fans. She pinned her focus onto the view outside of the window, cars and buildings blurring as they passed by, the melodious jazz tunes of Thanks For The Memory by Stan Getz playing on the radio helped calm her nerves a touch.
It wasn’t long before they pulled into the Farron estate. At the gates, the chauffeur lowered his window to quickly confirm their identities. Then, they made their way deeper into the Farron estate. The manor, sitting atop a soft hill, stood out with its sleek, modern design against the greenery—a chick blend of Mediterranean style and contemporary architecture, colored in whites, browns and other warm tinges of color, showcasing a luxury befitting the Farrons.
The driveway led past manicured colorful gardens to the side of the manor where a huge pool shimmered softly under the building's wall wash lights. The free form pool was easily the size of a basketball court, maybe even a little bigger. At its farthest end was a beautiful stone waterfall fountain. And It had a shallow water tanning ledge with some in-pool loungers and a few tall ice bin side tables. The pool was surrounded by cream-colored travertine tiles, and a pool deck of redwood that connected to the house.
The pool deck made up a vast area that covered one of the manor's many sides, it was littered with many seating spots. Some lush outdoor sofas and armchairs surrounding a gas-powered fire pit. A poolside sunbathing area with cushioned loungers, side tables, and a fresh towels box, backed by large white cantilever umbrellas for retractable shade.
Against one wall was an outdoor bar, fully stocked and ready for use, with a built-in fridge and liquor storage, as well as a few ready to use ice bins.There was also another massive seating area with couches, sofas, bean bags all sitting close to the barbeque setup of two massive charcoal and gas grills, barely used.
Ambient lighting cozied up the area even more, making the scene intimate and serene. Lightning breathed out at the familiar sight.
Behind the villa was a stretched out green field with Serah’s meticulously cared for gardens at the end of it, housing a variety of flora and lush greenery, perfect for a quick mind clearing stroll. Serah had a reading nook with a swing chair installed there, she was adamant on it. She was also adamant on having an outdoor theater at the manor, but Lightning thought their home theater was more than enough, much to Serah's dismay.
The field smoothly connected to a private road that led to their tennis courts, hidden from view with towering trees and hedges. The car pulled up the driveway, and Lightning waited for nobody to open the car door for her, she stormed off as soon as the vehicle stopped moving. Soon followed by Lilian shuffling out of the car. “Call me if there’s any development,” she muttered over her shoulder before disappearing inside.
Then the car slowly pulled back onto the road, making its way toward the large, well-lit garage further down the street. The building was spacious and meticulously maintained, fit to house the Farron car collection—from sleek, luxurious rides to vibrantly colored sports cars
Connected to the garage were two apartment buildings for her chauffeurs to reside in during their shifts. Four personal chauffeurs were assigned to her monthly, each of whom worked weekly shifts decided by their agency. Other than that, there were smaller buildings littered around the property for different purposes.
Every inch behind those guarded metal gates was part of the Farron’s estate, a large piece of land that could pass for a small neighborhood to most. Lightning wasn’t too fond of the excessive opulence, but she appreciated the peaceful solitude it gave her.
Once inside, Lightning called a car for Lilian, she couldn’t care less whether the woman was going home or to work but she made sure her ride was secured.
She was exhausted and pissed, the only thing that could help her now was a hot bath to relax her muscles.
Lightning nursed a drink while standing amongst a group of people, she paid no mind to their chatter and only gave them the occasional nod so they would believe she was paying attention to their pretentious conversation, frankly, she didn’t care about any of them.
She only attended the soiree because she had to, their host was a famous director, it was his birthday… or something. She really didn’t care enough to know the details, all she knew was that he directed a few best-selling blockbusters, and that his name was Nelv Praiah. Her team had insisted she attend the party, talking her ear off about it being good for her reputation and popularity points, whatever that meant.
She wore a black off-shoulder evening gown with a thigh slit, the satin was soft on her skin but did nothing to keep the cold at bay, she kept suppressing shivers the entire night. The party was held at the Eden Oak hotel, one of the most luxurious high-end venues in all of Eden city, everywhere she turned, she saw the finest clothes, dishes, and jewelry–that money can buy.
But Lightning didn’t give it much thought. She was no stranger to this kind of lavish wastefulness, the price on her stilettos alone was a testament to that, costing more than an average person's monthly mortgage.
She much preferred to leave and take some time for herself, social gatherings drained her energy faster than an intense hour-long sparring session… not to mention the recent controversy and the toll it took on her. But complaining never did her any good, for now, she had to deal with it and play along, acting every bit the part, because whether she liked it or not, she was part of this snobbish crowd.
Still, she hated the way people looked at her like she was a prize to be won. Ivan’s lies were just another reminder of how little control she had over her own life. She wasn’t his lover, his friend, or his anything. She was Lightning Farron, her own person. But even that felt like a lie sometimes.
She started for the center of the lobby, toward the glass fountain flowing with expensive champagne. The supermodel refilled her flute before sitting down at one of the many round tables, farthest as can be from the heart of the party. Her eyes scanned the room, watching the guests linger about, chatting and laughing through the typical rich people talk... or what she fondly referred to as 'fake bullshit.'
She was rich herself, but she could never stomach these gatherings. They always felt like a far more draining performance than any of her movie shoots.
“Hey,” a tall man with broad shoulders slid into the seat next to her. “Lightning, right? Loved your performance in Haven—though personally...” He pressed his palm to his chest, fingers spread wide. “I think they should’ve given you more screen time. You’re way easier on the eye than that lead actress.”
Lightning ignored his attempt at 'small talk' and shot him a side glance. The man was wearing a white tux with a dress shirt of the same color underneath. His chestnut-brown hair wavy and of medium length, split in the middle and spilling softly down each side of his face, stopping right before his sharp jawline. His face was clean shaven and his dark eyes boldly studied her from beneath sharp, pointed eyebrows.
“Ah," He shook his head with a chuckle. "I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, My name is Kirk Semial, you may know me from Beachful.” He winked, his gaze fixed on her face, perhaps looking for any sign of recognition.
"Hmm, never heard..." Lightning didn't hesitate with telling the truth, barely sparing him another glance. She was used to putting people in their place and deflating over inflated egos.
“Well, you have now.” He responded, seemingly unbothered. Lightning couldn't help but sigh.
He kept talking relentlessly for the next two hours, only stopping to call the server for more champagne. She kept drinking said champagne to keep herself entertained, the man was just too boring. Her many bodyguards were posted all around the lobby, waiting for a sign from her to intervene, but she preferred handling things on her own. Thankfully, he stopped talking when Nelv—their host—raised his glass for a toast.
Those seated had stood, and Lightning followed suit, barely masking her indifference. She couldn't care less about the speech, but the public eye was on her. The media cameras were hungry for a slip up, for anything they could twist into a headline. They'd find a way to paint her as 'disrespectful'—because unfortunately, the Farron name sold too well. She was also hoping Kirk would finally take the hint and go latch onto someone else—although she knew deep down that he wouldn't give up that easily.
A wide grin stretched across Nelv's round face as he stood at the center of the elegant reception hall. The golden chandeliers above cast a shimmering glow, reflecting off the guests' lifted flutes and glasses.
Only now did Lightning realize who he was—and why she had been sent a special invitation. She had met him at a film festival a year ago, where he had spent the whole night ogling her and tossing flirtatious hints her way.
For fuck’s sake…
The balding man cleared his throat with a grin on his face. Slowly. the room quieted down to listen. Lightning couldn't help but notice how his grey suit stretched a little too tight, one button in particular seemed dangerously close to popping.
“When I started out, I had nothing but a vision,” he began. “You think I had guarantees? A safety net?—No! Just a lot of long working nights.” He let out a short, wheezing chuckle, shaking his head softly as if he was reminiscing about some great struggles he faced. Lightning rolled her eyes, already knowing where this was going. She had listened to her fair share of pretentious speeches before.
"I had plenty of doubters." He said, puffing his chest out slightly. "Ones who said I was aiming too high. Maker, there were even moments where I wondered if they were right." Another laugh, this one was followed by a few scattered chuckles from guests, eager to suck up to him—or maybe too dependent on their paychecks.
"But you know what? I didn’t let it stop me," he continued, his jowls shaking with every word. "I made it happen, even when the..." Lightning took a slow sip of champagne, focusing her attention on the liquid tickling her tongue.
She let her gaze wander to the heavy crystal chandelier hanging above, it was a wonder how it didn't fall on their heads, although the more he talked, the more Lightning wished it would. She began roughly counting the crystals and tracing the glints of light that flickered off of them, anything to tune out the annoying boasting about awards, partnerships, relationships, and how somehow, his genius was apparently 'misunderstood for years.'
The words soon blurred to become background noise as she let her eyes drift back down and across the room, noting how the servers moved with haste and synchrony as guests busied themselves with kissing Nelv's ass. Her eyes fell to the floor's polished marble and the well-dressed guests standing on it, nodding along at just the right moments of the 'speech'. A woman on the opposite side of Lightning adjusted her necklace, the diamonds glinting as they caught the light. Lightning swirled the champagne in her flute, watching as bubbles and sparkles danced together, no longer hearing anything but the sound of her own thoughts.
"—that’s why I reckon we all deserve to celebrate tonight!" His voice rose, flinging his right arm wide, nearly knocking over a waitress in the process. "So, here’s to vision, to leadership, to every challenge turned into opportunity—and of course, to Dark Eclipse's release tonight!"
Then came the polite applause and forced smiles. From her peripherals, she could see the glints of cameras, rapidly flashing as the guests clinked glasses and flutes. Lightning adjusted the strap of her gown, the satin cool against her skin.
She clinked her own with Kirk's without even a glance his way—he happened to be the person standing right next to her, unsurprisingly. She had noticed a small bunch had slowly and subtly gathered around her, likely hoping for a chance to clink glasses and strike up a conversation. She figured it was better to stick with one annoying idiot than risk being cornered by more. At least with him, she knew what to expect.
“Ah, Lightning! Glad you could make it, sweetheart.” Nelv's voice boomed as he spotted her, his voice cutting through the hum of conversation. The short man approached with a wide grin and a drink in hand. She sighed internally but faked a polite smile to mask her irritation. "Would be a shame to miss it,” she said, with an even tone. Sweetheart… The word got on her nerves.
“Exactly! Can't be a big night like this one without the stardom, and you, my dear Lightning, bring plenty of it.” He chuckled as he swirled the drink in his hand, and Lightning held back a shiver (or maybe a punch) as his gaze lingered on her for a moment too long.
Lightning barely resisted the frustrated noise that fought to leave her throat. She settled for a polite, close-lipped smile instead, raising her flute in a wordless acknowledgement.
Smile and nod… She told herself.
Nelv addressed the small group that surrounded the conversation—industry elites, all dressed to the nines. “And of course, what would a night like this be without the rest of you?” He exclaimed, his arms spread wide.
Some guests chuckled, a few raising their glasses and flutes in amusement. A dark-skinned woman in an olive-green gown smirked, her ombré curls stylishly cascaded, framing her oval face. Lightning knew she'd seen her before, but she couldn't quite recall where, or what her name even was. “Oh, so we're just the supporting actors and actresses in Lightning’s big show, now? I find that highly offensive Mr. Praiah....” She teased, but the edge to her tone suggested she wasn’t really joking.
Nelv let out his boisterous laugh—a trademark of his—before swirling the drink in his hand some more. “Come on, now Sammy,” he said, wagging a fat finger at the woman. "We all know every single one of us makes this industry what it is.”
A busty, fair-skinned lady with heavy-looking diamond-studded earrings caught Lightning's vision. She was not tall, not even taller than Lightning, but wearing those impossible high heels and standing next to short-man Nelv helped paint her as much taller than she actually was. She wore an off-shoulder designer dress that clung to her curvy figure dangerously, it’s color a rich champagne-gold resembling that of the drink in her hand, and her ample breasts threatened to spill out over the straining fabric of her low neckline. Her long, blonde hair flowed down her back like the ocean waves, framing her body as it stopped mid-thigh.
She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow as she nursed at her champagne, her sharp eyes watching Lightning with a cold, calculated gaze. And Lightning could recognize that look anywhere... because none other than Jihl Nabaat would sneer at her like this. The bitch...
Lightning felt caged, like she was surrounded by predators waiting for her to slip up. But she could play at this game too, wouldn’t be her first time… far from it.
She glared her own set of daggers at Jihl, meeting her stare head-on. Lightning's expression was an icy mask of indifference, refusing to give Jihl the satisfaction of riling a reaction out of her.
Kirk—who was standing a little too close for comfort—adjusted his cuffs before flashing a smug grin. “Although, you gotta admit—the Farron name alone could sell out a premiere.”
“Right. Because names are what makes movies.” She traced the rim of her champagne flute in boredom, eyes unmoving from Jihl's who didn't even try concealing her smirk.
A film producer in a sharp maroon tux—his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back with precision—chuckled into his glass. “I reckon that’s all it takes these days.”
Nelv laughed again, though this time it sounded more forced. “You know, I always say—talent is only the start. The real game is about connections, knowing who to stand next to.”
Lightning took a sip, taking a moment to savor the taste. “I like to think talent matters more.” She said smoothly, her voice calm. "One of the few things you can't fake or buy, tends to have a longer shelf life, don’t you think?" Her gaze flitted about the rest of the guests briefly before pointedly settling back onto Jihl, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. A resounding chorus of nods and agreements sounded from the group around them, many of whom were just obsequiously eager to toady up to her, simple flunkies with no personality or purpose. But that wasn't what she found to be amusing, what amused her was the subtle, almost unnoticeable twitch of Jihl's brow.
An infinitely subtle jab, but it hit the mark perfectly nonetheless
“Of course, of course,” Nelv said, waving a hand dismissively. “But the right roles, the right PR—that's the difference between the stars and the amateurs, 's what turns stars into Eden City legends!” His gaze flickered over her. “You’re young yet already halfway there, sweetheart.”
Lightning’s grip on her glass tightened, but she kept her expression unreadable. It was that word again, it made her skin crawl. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she spoke with her usual clipped tone, struggling to hold back her scowl.
“Well then... I'd love to chat some more, but people are waiting on me.” His gaze lingered on Lightning for a second too long before he strongly clapped Kirk on the shoulder. “Careful now, boy. Don’t get too touchy.” He laughed gruffly as he sized her up again. “I’ll have you know, I’m a jealous, jealous man.” He said then gave her frame a last once-over before walking away, his obnoxious laughter trailing behind him.
Lightning watched him go, her expression calm despite her blood boiling beneath the surface. Kirk chuckled, leaning in a little too close. “He’s just… passionate.” He said, his voice dripping with fake charm.
Passionate. The word made her want to gag. They both seemed to view her as a prize to earn, like she was something to conquer. The woman learned early on in her career that this was fairly common… but it didn’t stop her from fantasizing about breaking their noses.
Her fingers twitched at her side, itching to curl into a fist as the crowd around them dispersed a little. Smile, nod, and keep your fists to yourself… she repeated the thought, but with an addition this time.
Kirk opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted. "Surprised to see me, Lightning?” Jihl purred, her voice dripping with venom.
Lightning crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Don't waste my time," she spoke without so much as a single blink.
"Oh?" Jihl chuckled lowly, "Tell me, sweetheart, are you enjoying yourself, or just counting the seconds until you can run home to hide." Lightning’s jaw tightened at the low jab, taunting her with that same word in an attempt to spite her.
"Hide?" Lightning smiled coolly, contrasting the fire simmering within. She took a deliberately slow sip of her drink, savoring the high-class drink. At least one thing here didn't leave a bitter taste in her mouth... "If I wanted to hide, I wouldn’t be here in the first place, entertaining whatever little performance you’re putting on."
Jihl’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before returning full force. She leaned in and away from listening ears, her sharp perfume invading Lightning's senses, almost giving her a headache. "All that poise, that cool control... I wonder how much longer you can keep up the act?"
Lightning exhaled slowly through her nose before letting a smirk curl at the corners of her lips. "Anything else? You’re boring me now." She huffed, speaking lowly in a dismissive tone before turning and walking away with a soft, elegant sway to her gown. Not waiting for a reply.
She had barely taken a few steps before another voice addressed her.
“You know,” Kirk said, matching her steps, “it’s not every day I get to share a drink with the face of Eden City.” Of course he would follow, it was Lightning's fault for forgetting that walking away wouldn't rid her of all the pests...
Lightning turned to him, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. “And yet, here we are... Lucky you.” She replied dryly.
Kirk laughed, but Lightning noted a flicker of unease in his eyes, as if he’d finally noticed her sarcasm. Finally... let him squirm.
It was close to midnight now, Dinner had been served, and the buffet tables were still laden with plenty of luxurious dishes—oysters laid on ice, truffle-infused delicacies, and desserts that looked too perfect to eat, like little works of art. She had grabbed a little for herself, more out of obligation than hunger. And as she ate, she did her best to ignore Kirk, who had somehow managed to insert himself into every moment of her evening, even dinner.
The man gave her no peace, acting like her shadow, he sat where she sat, and he stood where she stood. And more annoyingly, he tried being subtle about it, yet he was anything but that. The word Irritating was an understatement.
Her guards were poised and ready at every corner, itching to jump in and haul him away instantly, but they waited for a sign from her, they had to. Everyone around Lightning knew how strict she was with her preferences... The consequences were far too great for them to even think about acting on their own.
The music softened as the evening wore on, the constant buzz of chatter mellowed soon after, then the guests settled into small groups for quiet conversations, their chuckles and low voices blended with the gentle tunes of the grand piano being played. But Lightning was anything but calm, she was completely drained, her feet ached from hours in these high heels, and her back was stiff from the weight of holding an upright, perfect posture for the entire night.
The champagne had left her pleasantly tipsy, but she did well to stop drinking before things got out of hand—a new scandal was the last thing they needed, especially with the current mess with that asshole Ivan. She just can’t afford to give the money-hungry media another excuse to pounce on her.
Lightning’s fingers began absentmindedly tracing the rim of her empty champagne flute, the cool crystal glass served as a small distraction from the fatigue. She could feel Kirk’s eyes watching her, the tension in his shoulders obvious even from her peripherals, almost like he was working up the courage to ask for something… perhaps for her number, or even worse—a dance.
She certainly wasn’t planning on finding out which it was.
“It was nice meeting you… uh, Kirk,” she said, almost forgetting his name. “But it’s late now. My car is waiting.”
Kirk blinked, clearly caught off guard. “That’s a shame…” He muttered, recovering quickly as he patted down his suit in an attempt to smooth out invisible wrinkles.
Lightning grabbed her clutch bag and got up to leave. “Well anyhow, please allow me to walk you out.” He wasn’t asking, hence he didn’t wait for an answer before quickly falling into step beside her as she made her way toward the exit. Lightning clenched her jaw as pain shot up her calves with each step, her heels clicking sharply against the marble flooring.
“I got to say Lightning,” Kirk began, his voice dripping with that same false charm, “you’re nice to chat with.”
You were the only one talking… she thought, biting back her words.
“I enjoyed our night together,” He kept at it, undeterred. “How about I take your number?”
Lightning’s steps faltered for a fraction of a second, her fingers dug into the leather of her clutch bag as her grip tightened. I didn’t enjoy it, she wanted to snap at him… But instead, she kept her tone icy and clipped. “No. I’d rather not.”
Kirk stopped dead in his tracks as Lightning kept on walking, ignoring how his expression shifted from smug to stunned. “Why? I thought you liked me...”
Lightning turned to face him, an eyebrow arching upward in disbelief. “And why would you think that?” It was almost laughable—even a blind man could tell she had no interest in him.
She crossed her arms tightly, the wall lights’ glinting against her piercing blue eyes as her fists clenched hard in anger and in an attempt to warm her freezing fingers. Her dress was too revealing for weather like this, the thin fabric offered little to no protection against the night’s biting winds. And to make matters worse, this pathetic red-faced little man was chasing her like a whiney pup.
“You were looking at me ever since you got here.” He lashed out, his voice rising with every word. Lightning paid no mind to the handful of guests peering at them from second-floor windows, excited to watch the spectacle. “I hadn’t even noticed you until you started annoying me,” she spoke in her usual calm but cutting voice, although a hint of her irritation had seeped into it.
Kirk’s face instantly flushed into a vibrant red, his jaw clenching down. “Wow…” He spat, voice dripping with bitterness and venom. “You really are a bitch.” Most of the guests mingling outside had turned toward them now, their heads tilting and lowering as hushed murmurs rippled through the crowd, the sound loud enough to be heard by Lightning from afar. But she didn’t so much as flinch, she had been in far worse situations before...
Lightning turned slightly, from her peripherals she could see her personal guards standing between the guests, she could almost feel their anger directed at Kirk, who was none the wiser. She contemplated finally signalling them over.
“Move on, buddy.”
The voice came from behind her, low and steady, cutting through the tension like second nature. Who... Lightning turned back to find her chauffeur walking over with a fur shawl folded over the nook of one arm.
It was her fur shawl from last night—she must’ve forgotten it in the car... Lightning had just noticed her chauffeur for the week being a woman—tall, broad-shouldered, she wore a crisp, well-pressed black suit buttoned over an ironed white shirt that was, tucked in and precisely fitted. A matte black tie was secured at her collar with a shiny silver tie clip pinned to it. Her medium length black hair, shorter on the sides, was pulled back into a sleek low ponytail, leaving a few strands to frame her sharp, bronze features.
She draped the shawl over Lightning’s shoulders, Lightning’s fingers quickly buried deep within the fur, finding the warm fabric a welcomed relief from the cold. The woman positioned herself between Lightning and Kirk, being as tall as he was, she squared up to him easily, locking eyes. All attention effortlessly shifted to her in that moment.
Her presence was calm and commanding, dissolving the tension like how strong winds would dissipate fog. She stood tall, almost proud—shielding Lightning from that man-child’s gaze. Normally, Lightning would hate the intervention, she knew she could handle things on her own, but at this moment, she was tired, irritated, and had too many eyes on her. Besides, the heels digging into the back of her ankles were starting to chafe and burn.
“Madam,” she said, motioning toward the car with a gloved hand, it was a short distance away. A few steps to freedom.
Lightning hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on the chauffeur’s profile. There was something about her—an air of quiet confidence that made Lightning feel like she could breathe again, if for a mere moment.
The chauffeur positioned herself behind Lightning as she walked her back to the car, deliberately maintaining the position between her and Kirk.
However, the man in question wasn’t done. “You think you’re better then everyone, huh?” He blustered, his voice rising some more as he began slowly circling around them to face Lightning. “You’re nothing but a snobbish little Farron slu—"
Without hesitation, the taller woman closed the distance between them and Kirk with a few long strides, stepping into Kirk’s personal space, watching him closely with unwavering eyes. The air seemed to crackle as even the onlookers shifted nervously. “Go on,” she murmured, daring him with a deceptively calm tone. “Be a big boy now, finish that sentence.” The smallest hint of a smirk flickered across her face.
Kirk’s stance faltered, and his eyes darted around the woman’s face as his lips opened to retort, but before he could speak, two of the event’s security guards appeared at the commotion. “Sir, please step back,” one of them had demanded.
Kirk glared at them briefly, then focused his attention back on Lightning who stood by the vehicle, watching with cold indifference as his face flushed with rage at the humiliation. “Posh bitch,” he snarled, his voice trembling with barely contained rage as he all but shrank away, adding to the humiliation.
The chauffeur didn’t respond. Instead, she turned back to the car, dismissing him as he posed no threat anymore. Now, he was simply a small man talking big in an attempt to salvage his pride. She walked back to Lightning before effortlessly leaning down to open the car door for her.
Fortunately for Lightning, the tall woman was too preoccupied to notice how the model was studying her. Being this close, her features were clearer, the strong jawline, the small, faded scar just above her left brow, the beauty mark beneath her right eye, and those emerald-green pupils, visible even in the low light. Strikingly handsome, Lightning acknowledged, and she rarely, if ever, did that.
Then Kirk’s voice rose once more, pulling her back to the irksome reality of tonight. “You think you’re so special, huh?” He called out, shoving his index finger in her direction over the shoulders of the security guards trying to calm him down. He may be more drunk than she previously believed.
She quickly ducked and entered the car, ignoring the man who was now having a shouting fit. Her skin tingled at the feel of heated seats after a long while of standing in the cold, she wrapped the shawl tighter around her, gratefully appreciating the warm fur.
“You’re just another Eden City bitch who thinks everyone should worship her.” And he kept on rambling loudly, on and on without pause...
More eyes were watching them now, so the chauffeur couldn’t just ignore it. Lightning watched through the tinted window as the tall woman walked back to him again with a sigh. "Last chance... Take a walk.” She spoke, her voice low and carrying a warning that made the security pause for a quick glance.
After a tense moment, the red-faced man muttered something low under his breath and shook off the guards’ clutches with a wild, frenzied flail of arms. The soles of his shoes skidded roughly against the pavement as he turned on his heel, storming off angrily while attempting to fix his now disheveled suite.
The woman watched him hop the stairs back to the hotel, her expression unreadable. She stepped back to Lightning’s car door and rapped her knuckles lightly against the window as she scanned their surroundings, the crowds now had thankfully dispersed a little.
Lightning rolled the window down, and the woman’s sharp gaze immediately darted all over Lightning, assessing. “Everything alright, madam?” She asked, her voice gentle as she leaned down slightly to be heard better.
Lightning nodded, though her fingers trembled subtly. “Yes, I’m fine.” She said, her voice softer than she intended. “Thank you.”
This was all just too embarrassing—Kirk’s tantrum, the gossipy crowd, the woman’s intervention like she was some powerless, sheltered teen in need of protection. She didn’t need this cossetting, nor did she want it. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to say this aloud. Perhaps exhaustion had settled in deeper than she originally thought.
The heated leather of the car seats definitely helped, enveloping her in a warm cocoon that stole tension from her body. Her eyes instinctively followed the chauffeur as she settled into the driver’s seat, posture composed, absolutely unreadable.
“Home, madam?” She asked, fixing her hands on the wheel. Lightning wondered if deep voices had always been this pleasant. She burrowed deeper into the soft fur, wrapping the shawl tighter with a silent nod. There was no denying the heavy pull on her eyelids.
The car smoothly pulled away from the curb, without any jolts or sudden starts, as if gliding on thick, even ice. The landscape quickly changed from the private parking lot of Eden Oak Hotel to vibrant city lights, quickly blurring into streaks of gold and red. Lightning leaned her head against the window, her slow breaths fogging the glass. For the first time that day, she relaxed.
Lightning stayed quiet during the ride, doing her best to stay awake. She observed the well-lit and bustling Eden City. Bright neon signs of night clubs lit up some alleyways, their vibrant colors reflecting off of the wet pavement. Each street was lined with bars, restaurants, and shops for a variety of purposes. The city was well awake, even in this late of night, people laughed and danced in bars, others packed the sidewalks, and some… some stayed in the shadows of back allies, forgotten and hidden from sight. Lightning felt detached from it all… as if she spent her life staring at the scene through panes of glass.
The warm seats soon lulled her into a haze of blurred thoughts, finding little struggle thanks to the champagne dulling her senses. And before she knew it, the view melted into a veil of smeared shapes and kaleidoscopes of colors. Her eyes fluttered shut, unable to resist anymore.
The car came to a gentle stop, the halt almost unnoticeable. Lightning’s eyes cracked open as the soft hum of the engine faded away. “I apologize for waking you, madam.” She locked eyes with the woman through the rearview mirror. “We have arrived.”
Lightning rubbed at her temple to clear the mind fog and some of the growing headache. Her makeup was undoubtedly a smudged mess by now. “Yeah, alright.” She murmured before clearing her throat to rid her voice of the huskiness from sleep.
Lightning groaned softly, sleeping like this always left her sore and disoriented, no matter how comfortable the seats were.
The other woman exited the vehicle, making sure to shut the car door courteously so as to not add to Lightning’s displeasure. Moments later, Lightning’s car door was opened for her. The sun-kissed driver stood at the other end, her tall frame silhouetted by the warm glow of the house’s softly lit exterior.
Lightning reached out instinctively, finding Fang’s arm to steady herself as she stepped out of the warm vehicle and into the cold night. High heels would forever be the bane of her existence.
The drowsy model immediately noticed the firm, toned forearm muscles beneath the fabric of the chauffeur's jacket. They flexed as the taller woman adjusted her stance to support Lightning with every step. The walk to the front door seemed longer than normal, each step dragging as Lightning took her sweet time walking, or more so hobbling her way to the front door, she couldn’t help it, her legs and feet were nearly killing her.
Once at the door, Lightning straightened her posture, stretching her spine as a few soft cracks sounded out. She smoothed out some of the fabric of her dress before turning to face the tall driver, her gaze lingering on the woman’s sharp eyes. “Your name?”
“My name is Fang, madam.” The woman stated, her tone professional.
Fang… The name was unusual, yet it suited her perfectly, strong, sharp, and with an undeniable charm. Lightning mused it over for a moment before realizing she hadn’t let go of Fang’s arm. She released her grip immediately, the motion so abrupt it was as if she got burned. “I… Sorry.”
“You’re good, madam.” Fang answered with an easy, disarming grin.
“Lightning.” The model blurted, her voice low.
The Pulsian tilted her head forward as she leaned down to hear her better. “’Scuse me, madam?” The close proximity helped Fang’s cologne invade Lightning’s nostrils, it was a rich and earthy scent of rainforest, layered with hints of sandalwood and light oud.
Lightning’s sense of smell was burnt out after a night full of sharp perfumes, heavy colognes, and an outrageous variety of food. Yet, despite all that, she found the smell quite pleasant, not intense, just extremely intoxicating.
For a moment, she forgot what she planned to say. “Just call me Lightning.” Finally, she spoke.
And Fang blinked, caught off guard.
“No need for formalities when we’re alone.” The model added, wearing a tiny, amused smile, barely visible.
Fang nodded, though not without a flicker of uncertainty. “As you wish, mad—uh…” She trailed off as a warm, almost sheepish smile lit her face. “Might take me a moment to get used to.”
Lightning stared a little, caught off guard by the warmth painted across the Pulsian’s sun-kissed features, such a free expression, so easily real. With a deep huff, she reached up to fluff the soft wavy curls that draped down her left shoulder. “It’s fine... no rush.” She said, her tone lighter than it had been all night. It was surprisingly easy talking to Fang. Almost like all the pressure and expectations simply evaporated into thin air.
Fang’s eyes crinkled at the corners and her smile widened. “I’ll keep that in mind, Lightning.” She said, testing the name slowly, deliberately and curiously. It rolled off her tongue easily. Lightning couldn’t deny that her name sounded pleasant with that exotic accent. A faint shiver brushed down her spine… surely from the cold breeze.
She broke the eye contact, hurriedly shifting her focus to the purse hanging under her arm. Fang stood by patiently, watching in silence as Lightning fished out her keys from the leather bag.
Her lithe fingers slid the key into the cradle of its lock, she twisted then Fang pushed the heavy door open. Lightning took slow steps inside, embracing the familiar warmth that greeted her.
Not deliberately, Fang caught a glimpse inside. A spacious living area opened up beyond the doorway, one with spotless mahogany floors that gleamed a deep red under the soft, ambient lighting. It was sleek and extremely lavish despite the apparent simplicity. Clean, modern furniture filled the space, holding a sense of luxury that was far beyond her.
White colored couches and sofas were carefully arranged around a low, black, circular, coffee table. Some small abstract artworks adorned the walls she could see. And a staircase with thin glass railings led to the second floor. The place was refined and warm, an astonishingly luxurious space despite its simplicity.
The tired woman let out a quiet breath as she turned to face Fang from the doorway, a tired smile now tugging at the corners of her lips. Fang noticed a housemaid appearing from a door in the background, wearing a neatly pressed white uniform, clean, pristine. “Ms. Lightning!” The young maid rushed to the front door, a pair of fur slippers in hand, seeming to have pulled them out of thin air. “Dinner is ready, and Jaquelle has prepared you a bath.” She laid the slippers near Lightning’s feet before standing to grab the shawl off Lightning’s shoulders. Lightning raised a hand, “I’m not hungry right now, just tired. Thank you, Cara.” Lightning said, turning back to the woman standing on her porch.
“Have a goodnight, Fang.” Lightning said as she reached down and back to slip off her high heels. Fang thought they seemed… painful.
“Good night.” She had to bite back her tongue from saying madam again.
The Pulsian stood outside the door for a minute or so to gather her bearings, then she took a deep breath and walked back to the car.