Out on the street, a sleek sedan flashed its headlights. Owen opened the door and I slid inside, a little short of breath. Must have been the long stairwell.

“We should be there in time for the hors d’oeuvres.” Behind the wheel, Bradley was unperturbed.

Town Hall was lit up like Christmas. I’d walked past in the daytime, an impressive sandstone building with sweeping steps leading up to a grand portico. But at night, with golden light streaming from the windows, the elaborate stonework cast fantastical shadows. It looked like a fairytale palace.

I paused to take it in, running my fingertips down the smooth pleats of my shirt. At the foot of the stairs, Owen turned back towards me. Cameras flashed around us, it was like someone had sprinkled fairy dust. 

He sparkled. Then his dark eyes flashed a question, and I realised I’d been staring. Possibly with my mouth open.

Laid up the main stairs was an actual red carpet. People were making their way up with, women with glittering gowns and Ozempic collarbones. The men wore identical sleek black suits, the odd celebrity flashing around in a colourful jacket. At the top we stopped in front of a banner and Owen pressed gently on my arm, directing my attention to the battalion of photographers.

“Mr Varanor! Who’s your companion?”   

“Matching tuxedos! Which designer?”

Owen kept a steady hold on me as I gaped like a landed carp. Finally I felt him move, pulling me gently to his side as we walked through the doors.

White clad waiters glided across the mosaic floors, holding trays laden with drinks. I spotted a familiar outline.

“There’s Gregory.” I squeaked, and Owen’s hand tightened on my arm for a moment before dropping.

“Hmph.”

Gregory gave a bright smile to his companions and swiftly made his way to us. One look at Owen, and the grin fell off his face.

“Everything alright my l-- sir?”

“There’s no need to rush over here.” Owen sounded snippy.

God, being his right-hand man must be a tricky job. Before Gregory could respond, the doors to the main hall opened. Guests put down their champagne flutes and thronged inside.

Enormous chandeliers lit up dozens of round tables, silverware and crystal sparkling. I followed Owen and Gregory as they weaved through the crowd, stopping every few steps to exchange civilities with someone.

I caught Gregory’s eye, feeling bad. He gave me a jokey grimace, but it slid off his face when the boss looked our way. Then he took a step backwards and melted into the crowd.

Colin, Pippa and Beryllia were already seated at our table. Colin, who turned out well in a tux, was pretending to examine the label on a bottle while the two women giggled.

“Ah, notes of yesterday’s mowed lawns, with light finish of hand sanitiser.”

Their banter ceased at the sight of us, and they stood up to greet Owen.

“M-mr Varanor. Thanks so much for inviting us.” Beryllia gave a brave smile. The others echoed her nervously.

“It’s my pleasure. The leadership team shouldn’t have all the fun. And I’m extremely pleased with your work.”

 He pulled out my chair as he spoke, and I nearly fell onto it. Was this the same Owen Varanor? The Ice Prince himself, casually pouring himself a glass of sparkling water while he chatted with employees?

My colleagues visibly relaxed. The big boss wasn’t so scary after all!

“Will you be making another trip to site thirty soon?” Beryllia asked.

Owen gave a small smile. “Yes, it’s been promising. But while we’re still in the exploration stage, we should be careful.”

“Careful of what?” A rich female voice floated over the table.

Gorgeous in a midnight dark halter dress, a woman sauntered over to the table. She was tall, and her black hair was swept off her shoulders in elegant cascades. With dark eyes and tanned skin, she bore a striking resemblance to Owen.  

Beside me, Owen leaned back and swirled his sparkling water like a fine whiskey. “Chloe, glad to see you could make it.”

“Nice to see you, Vice-president Varanor.” Colin stood up to greet her. The others following suit. Baffled, I bobbed indecisively until a glance from Owen sat me back down.

The woman’s gaze flickered over the team and settled squarely on my face. She took the seat directly across from me, flanked by couple of handsome men in suits. Like her, they had dark eyes and black hair, and an air of complete indifference to their surroundings.

“Careful of what, cousin?” Chloe repeated.

“Careful of the delicate glassware.” Owen smiled frostily.

Cousin. I hadn’t realised Tenecore was a family affair. Not necessarily a happy one, by the looks of it.

A flurry of white sleeved waiters began to serve the first course, and conversation dropped amid the clink of cutlery.   

Colin looked down at his plate then up at me. Atop a tiny smear of something green sat a lonesome scallop. It hardly seemed worth dirtying a fork. A small giggle threated to escape my mouth as our eyes met, and I took a sip of champagne. Delicious, expensive champagne.

Conversation was stilted at first. But unlike Owen, my colleagues and I were up for the free wine. After my second glass of bubbles I was already giggling at Pippa’s description of the contortions she’d had to make to zip up her dress, and Colin was grinning as he hooked his thumb beneath the strap of his clip-on bow tie.

“This is gorgeous.” Pippa purred at me and stroked my lapel. I blushed as I remembered how Owen had adjusted my tie, and darted a small look his way. He was talking to Gregory, who had reappeared in time to eat. Whatever Owen’s beef had been with him, he’d gotten over it.

My mind began to wander pleasantly as I watched them. Sure, Owen was the boss. But there was a camaraderie between the two men than seemed to transcend their statuses, like they’d been friends for a long time. It felt nice to watch, and I thought of Shelby with a pang.

I pulled out my phone to snap a quick selfie for her, turning around to get the lavish tablescape in the background. Colin promptly photobombed, setting off a free-for-all amongst the tipsy operations team. Bunny ears and faux pashes quickly overtook my semi-serious attempts at capturing the luxurious vibe, and it wasn’t long before Beryllia was dragging us all to the dancefloor.

Now, I grew up in the sticks, but I can still shake a tail feather. The dinner was over, but only a few brave souls had ventured to the floor. The four of us made our way to the front, close to the DJ. She grinned and kicked off a banging crowd-pleaser.