Malvina:
Big mistake. Saying yes to Mrs. Linda's request.
Now that I sit in front of a dressing table in the staff room of the Runaway, I realise how nervous I am. Firstly, I do play piano and sing, but occasionally.
Second, by the way this place has been fussed upon by Mrs Linda, I doubt it would be some normal, random people. Rather some big hotshot who I need to perform for.
I grip the soft baby-blue fabric of my dress that I, along with Ronan bought yesterday. After spending nearly the entire day, we both settled on this dress. As much as it seems weird, but I don't really have many friends, so it's always been me and Ro. Besides, he has better taste in fashion than me.
I nervously glance at the mirror in front of me, my hair flowing in waves to my lower back and my hair in a half updo, secured with a bow at the back. I look like a doll that Mrs Linda decorated. I feel overwhelmed.
I glance at the beige bandage around my ankle, as expected, I sprained it that day. Three days ago to be exact. Honestly, it doesn't bother me much, apart from the fact that it reminds me of a embarrassing moment in my life.
The entire restaurant is closed off for today for the special guests that will be arriving. It just makes my entire'nervous' situation worse. Why do they need to close off the entire restaurant and not just book the special hall at the back where they usually hold such meetings.
I take a deep breath and nod at myself in the mirror and rise from my seat. I winch from the sudden movement of my leg, but proceed to move out anyways. If I sit here one more moment, I will probably rip out my hair.
The entire restaurant is quiet, even the soft music that usually keeps on playing is turned off.
The door to the VIP section of the restaurant was closed, the guests are probably here. I glance outside through the huge window facing the streets. There were two cars lined outside.
I don't know much about cars but they looked expensive and beautiful, all in black. Do rich people only buy black cars? Why prejudice against the color of a car? You can be rich and roam around in a pink car, or yet a green one, especially if it's in soft sage. Wait, I know, there is this vintage brand that has cars in pastels. Why are you even thinking about that? Boredom can be lethal.
"Oh Malvina, daring you are here, and I thought you ran away from being nervous." I am pulled out of my in-depth monologue about the colour of cars. I turn around to address Mrs. Linda.
"Why would I do that?" I chuckle softly. "Though I am a little nervous, but I wouldn't bail on you. Don't you trust me, Aunt Lin?"
Mrs. Linda laughed. "The guests are here, they are having a meeting. They will be joining us in the hall room in an hour at most, are you ready? Is your leg hurting, why don't you sit down?" Mrs. Linda asks in a concerned voice.
I nod and smile, "Aunt Lin, don't worry, I am prepared." I answer honestly. " My leg doesn't hurt at all." I throw a glance towards the closed door over my shoulder. "Can I go out in the garden for the time being, I need some fresh air. I will be back in a few minutes." She nods.
The scent of fresh flowers and herbs invades my senses the moment I step into the garden. It is like a small hide-out, hidden behind the restaurant, a few come here.
Fresh basil and mints along with several herbs grown in small pots, are kept neatly over a bench. A few shrubs of white roses on one side, and a few bushes of hydrangea here and there. A few different flower plants grow in pots and green vines and the blue, bell-shaped flowers twines around the metal canopy over the swing in one corner of the garden.
I sit on the white, metal swing and caress the blue flowers hanging over my head. I love coming here whenever I visit the restaurant. The mild fragrance of flowers and the sight of the pure white roses always calms my mind. I love flowers, but white roses the most.
The air is fresh and moist, the evening breeze brushing my hair over my face. A few small flowers falls on my hair and lap. I smile and brush them off. I look above towards the blurry textured glasses of the windows on the second floor. Soft yello light emits from there and casts a small glow over the garden.
Are they still there? I wonder what they are discussing about. From what I know, many plots in this area are being sold and the locals are moving to the big cities. I hope this is not one of them. I have quite grown to like this place.
I sigh and start swinging gently. A soft shadow interrupts the soft glow from the window. I glance up to see a figure standing there, I try to distinct its face, but fail. The shadow just stands there for a moment, with a wine glass resting in their hand. Looking at…me?
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling awkward. I lean back and my back hits a solid object, I turn around to see a book peeking out of the cushions behind my back. "Oh, so it was here all this time. I thought I lost it." I left it here the last time I came here, which was probably a month ago.
I turn my head towards the shadow, but now it was gone. Strange.
A soft breeze blows on my face, carrying the sweet smell of roses. I close my eyes, breathing in the soft smell.
"Mumma, why do you like those flowers so much?"
"What do you mean?"
"You always water them everyday. Do you love it more than me?"
My eyes snap open and a dull ache travels through my head.The words like a whisper in the winds, disappears. I grip the fabric of my dress. A strange knot forming in my mind. It disappeared without answering any of my questions, like always.
When I enter the hall, the staff is busy arranging the already arranged table and Mrs. Linda is on the small stage, looking after the arrangements one more time.
I approach her just as the door to the second floor, VIP room opens.
Mrs. Linda ushers me to the staff room, "Malvina, these are very important people, okay? Don't be nervous, hmm? I will bring you out myself. You don't have to stay there anymore after the performance." She said with a soft voice and run a gentle hand through my hair before leaving.
The next fifteen minutes pass by with me over thinking and glancing at the door every two minutes. The door clicks open, and Mrs. Linda says in a low voice, "Let's go."
I step onto the stage and take a seat in front of the piano. The microphone is set up on my side and reaches just below my lips and I face the guests. I never look up, never even steal a glance, because if I do, I am sure I won't be able to perform anymore.
My fingers hovers over the piano keys, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and part my lips and in this moment the whole room disappears. It is just me and the piano.
I open my eyes again, the whole room is drowned in silence, the soft sound of my breathing is the only sound that is audible in the entire room and then I lift my gaze.
A mistake.
Four gentlemen occupy the seats in front of me in the dimly lit room. The chandelier shines over my head, making me the sole object of their attention.
The entire room is empty except for the one table that they occupy. The entire room suddenly feels small and constricted.
Then my eyes met a particular set of eyes and my world stops.
I am mesmerised. Mesmerised by the beholder of those eyes. Coffee. That's the first thing that comes to my mind. They look like a cup of expresso. Beautiful. It's the same pair of eyes as my dreams, a few days ago. How can it be when I have never seen them before.
The stare that we share at this moment feels like a current just travelled through my body.
They seem devoid of any emotion at first, but I am wrong. They look like they are in misery. Why? Why are they in so much pain?
I sigh. Wish I could take away the pain in them.
All of the other men disappear like they never existed. He is the sole beholder of my attention at this moment.
Wavy, dark hair that matches the colour of his eyes, reaching his nape, styled to perfection. They look like, it could be pulled into a small bun at the back. A few purposeful strands astray over his forehead. A light stubble, defining that sharp and pronounced jawline.
Soft lips part as he whispers something that my eyes fails to decipher. My fingers are yearning to touch those lips and feel if they are as soft as they look. And stark contrast to those lips is his face, nothing soft about it, it has a dark and captivating edge to it.
He leans back in his seat, but the eye contact never breaks. Why do I feel so hot all of a sudden?
I take notice of his mahogany three-piece suit that embraces his body. Power.His entire form screams power. My eyes travel back to his eyes which are, for some reason, still fixed on me. A mixture of fascination and satisfaction lingering through them.
The sudden sound of clapping startles me. I look at the source, a man who looks like a boy-band member. Freshly-styled blackish-blue hair, casual black blazer and a single eyebrow piercing nails the 'cool' boy look.
He looks similar to the man with expresso eyes. Maybe his brother or a close relative. He looks like he is in his early to mid-twenties, this man is young, around my age.
His face pulled into a smug grin as if he is watching his favourite show. A strange glimmer in his eyes as if I am some kind of spectacle that he finds amusing. Annoying. I tear my eyes away from him to the next man.
I glance at the other two men in the room, both looking intimidating and serious. One of them is analyzing me like a puzzle, looking at me as if he was studying me, his sinister eyes scanning me as if I am a project or something interesting and unique.
The other one just stare at me with a straight face. Wait, he is the one who stepped out of the car the other day. The spy man. Why is he here?
I glance back at the mesmerising man, this time his eyes are filled with rage as if he wants to hurt someone.
I quickly divert my eyes and stand up, I slightly bow in front of them and exit the room while managing not to stumble on my way out.
I make a bee-line for the garden and breathe a sigh of relief when I reach there. My thoughts drifting back to the mysterious man and those eyes. Looking at him was indeed a mistake.
A beautiful mistake.