His Accidental Heiress

Elena's POV

The tray is balanced on my palm as I move between tables with the ease of someone who has done this a million times already. The smell of roasted coffee beans clings to my hair and apron, and my old white sneakers squeak almost inaudibly on the café's polished floor.

It is Friday evening, and the jitters of the approaching weekend can already be felt, tingling in the air.

"Here you go," I mutter, stopping by the table closest to the door. "On caramel latte, extra foam."

The young girl with glasses on gives me a smile without looking up from her laptop. Probably an assignment that needs to be sent in before the end of the day.

I straighten, rubbing the back of my neck as I move to the next table. My eyes search the clock hanging above the door at intervals, waiting for my shift to be over.

Everyone who walks in here will think I actually enjoy my job, but it is suffocating, and I can really do without it. Still, money has to be made.

"Elena!" A voice I know too well chirps from the booth in one corner.

I turn around to see my best friend, Elizabeth, leaning into the seat, legs crossed and eyes reflecting the wide grin on her face. She is dressed in a black sequined tube top, with gloss that can be seen from miles away.

"Ready for a Friday party?"

"What are you doing here?" I whisper harshly, rushing over to her, still with the tray in my hands.

She taps her perfectly manicured nails on the table. "Rescuing you from this prison. You are coming out with me tonight. No excuses."

"I'm working, Elizabeth." My eyes dart around, hoping the manager doesn't come out now.

"You are off in twenty minutes," she replies like she already knows how this is going to play out. "And don't pretend like you've got something better to do, unless Netflix suddenly started paying you to rewatch all the sappy comic dramas you like."

I roll my eyes. "First of all, FRIENDS isn't sappy, and second, it is way better than dancing away in some club with all that sweat and music."

Even though my voice gives disdain, my best friend isn't totally wrong. My life outside the café is non-existent. The closest thing I have to excitement is being indoors all day long.

"Are you going with me or not?" She questions, her eyes daring me to say otherwise.

"What is the occasion?"

"Party at Jaden's place. You remember Jaden, right?"

"Your crush?"

"Don't tell him that!" she snaps. Now, it is her turn to look around as if Jaden will suddenly materialize out of thin air. "But yeah. Him. And everyone is going. There's going to be music, dancing, drinks..."

Elizabeth leans forward, her eyes shining with mischief. "Trust me when I say that this is right for you."

"I don't know about that," I sigh, tray still in hand. I am not a fan of parties. I hate the noise, the crowds, the fake smiles. But with the way Elizabeth is regarding me intently, I doubt I have much of an option.

Maybe she is right.

Maybe I do need to breathe for once.

"Fine," I mutter, surprising myself. "But I can't stay long, Elizabeth. You know I have to be back here tomorrow morning."

She raises her hands in mock surrender. "One drink and I will personally take you home."

"You'd better do."

***

By the time my shift ends, I have convinced myself that this party isn't as bad as my brain is making it up to me. When I get home, I shower in record time and pull on a simple black dress that has been sitting in the back of my closet for a long time.

I planned to wear it to a cute little date, but going out is no longer my thing since I started working at the café. I can only be grateful if I end up going to the park or the pool.

When I step out of my room, Elizabeth angles her head.

"Are you seriously wearing that to Jaden's party?"

I stop and look down at myself. "What is wrong with my dress?"

"Everything," she mutters. "But we can narrow it down a notch if that is what you like. It is drab, boring, and nothing is on display."

"I am not going to this party to get any part of my body on the internet."

Elizabeth gives me a look that says she isn't going to handle this one. She loops her arm through mine.

"You clean up nice, Elena. You look good."

"Thank you, Elizabeth, you always look good.

We head towards our Uber waiting outside. Elizabeth has a car, but she has no plans of driving tonight, especially since she has a lot of things planned.

The ride is filled with my best friend trying to tell me about all the things and people I should be wary of, and in no time, we arrive at the building.

The first words that escape my lips are "Wow!" The building is made with stone walls, and there is a huge private pool in the center of the building.

"I'm still regretting this," I murmur to Elizabeth as she pulls me into the building with her.

"You won't," she replies, even though my heart says different.

"Hey, guys!" She calls as soon as she enters the living area. "Meet Elena." That is how Elizabeth is, always the sharp one

And then, turns to look at me. "And Elena, meet some of my friends. You will have fun with them tonight, just in case I am not there with you."

I stop her. "What do you mean when you are not here with me?"

"Don't think too much about it." She ruffles my hair and sits in my corner. "So, can we join you in the game?"

"What game?" I whisper to her, leaning into her ears.

"Truth or Dare."

My breath hitches. "I can't play the game."

The guy seated beside me nudges me gently. I turn to look into one of the purest and most unique eyes. For some reason, I try scooting away, closer to Elizabeth. His eyes darken as he takes in my little attempt.

"I don't bite," he whispers.

Elena's POV

"Truth or dare!" One of their voices rings out, despite the raging music all around us. The guy with the pure eyes has successfully ignored me, but he isn't exactly playing the game either. And no one bothers him.

"Elena!" Elizabeth nudges me again for the umpteenth time that night. I jump and look towards her, wondering what it is this time, until I see half the eyes in the circle watching me too.

"What?"

"It's your turn," she whispers. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I blurt, not wanting to be caught doing something that gets plastered across billboards in a few hours. It is one of my fears, being known for something I am not proud of. My mantra has been the same since I was a kid.

To keep my head low and do what I have to do to make ends meet.

And this doesn't directly fall into the path.

"Have you ever had sex before, Elena?"

The question makes my eyes fall wide open. It is from the guy sitting beside me. The same one who hasn't asked one question since this game started.

He now has his eyes on me, regarding me intently. I squirm under the intensity of those grey eyes and try to look away. But for some reason, it is practically impossible.

My throat feels parched, and I desperately begin to crave water. Without thinking, I reach for the glass set in front of me a few minutes ago and gulp down its whole content.

Elizabeth's mouth opens as her hands dash out to stop me, but it is too late as every single drop is down my throat. Her mouth closes slowly just as she nods.

"That wasn't water, Elena," she murmurs, leaning in to me.

"Really?" I narrow my eyes. "Are you sure? Because it definitely tasted like water."

"You don't have to answer the question," the grey-eyed guy mutters. "I could tell that you were a virgin the minute you stepped into the room."

"Hey!" It tumbles from my tongue before I can stop myself. "You don't have proof of that."

He angles his head at me, as if accepting an unspoken challenge.

"Are you going to answer the question?" Someone in the circle asks. "If you aren't, we have the liberty to dare you."

I look at the guy and then back to the group. Someone slurs in my head, but it is gone in a second, replaced by such sharp awareness.

The last thing I want to do is tell these strangers about my zero sex life, especially not the one next to me. I don't know him, and I probably will not see him after today. Yet, every inch of him makes me wary.

The nonchalance in his voice, the way he regards me from underneath his lashes, the way my body reacts, the heat that spreads through me, the need to keep watching him as my pulse races.

"Dare, then," I mutter, feeling some level of confidence wash through me.

"Do you want to dare her?" Elizabeth asks him. What is everyone's obsession with his handling of my game?

He scans the room slowly, his eyes landing on a tall, lanky guy by the makeshift bar. "There. Talk to him and get him to kiss you. Bonus points if you get his number."

"What?" My breath hitches. "I thought..."

"It's either that, or you take off three clothing items. I really doubt you would want to do that."

I chew my bottom lip as I curse Elizabeth in my head. She is the reason I am here in the first place. My typical Friday night is spent in front of a television, watching some funny drama and laughing to my heart's content.

Because that is the only humour I get out of my life. The rest is hard and boring.

The shrill of Elizabeth's phone disrupts the circle for a second. She retrieves her phone, looks up at me, and winks. But in another second, she pulls herself off the couch and scurries in the opposite direction.

"I'll be back!" She calls over her shoulder.

Great. Just great.

Everyone in the little group still has their eyes on me. Sighing, I pull myself to my feet, then look at the grey-eyed man. "Fine. I'll do your stupid dare. But what do I get in return if I get him to kiss me?"

"That's not how it...." Another person in the circle starts to say, but she gets cut off.

"Nothing, because I know you won't kiss me."

"Ouuuuu!" It spreads through the circle, making red patches appear on my cheeks.

"Game on!"

I walk away from the group and wobble slightly on my feet. My head feels light, and I remember the drink Elizabeth warned me about. It was definitely not water.

The lanky guy by the bar looks up at me when he senses me approaching, but my feet decide to act all up then. I trip on my own feet and feel myself fall forward. The first thing I think about is how everyone in the room will burst out in laughter, seeing me on the floor.

But that never happens as his surprisingly strong arms catch me before my face hits the floor. He smells of cedar wood and honey, an unusual but nice combination.

"Easy," he murmurs, an easy amusement in his voice. "Are you good? Do you need water?"

I nod, groaning. "That was what got me here in the first place."

He chuckles. "Water?"

"I ended up gulping down a whole glass of vodka because I was thirsty, but in my defence, it didn't taste like vodka. It didn't burn."

He laughs heartily, reaching out to ruffle my hair. It feels warm.

"I'll get you real water this time. It helps calm down the liquor."

I nod, watching him move as he grabs a glass and walks to the sink, filling it with water. He returns a moment later and hands it to me.

"You'll feel better once you have it."

I remember the dare and decide that this should be easy after all. But from the corner of my eyes, I see a scowl plastered on the grey-eyed guy's face as he gets off and stalks away.

Elena's POV

My eyes follow him up the stairs until his tall frame disappears from view. Even then, I angle my head, still staring at the first landing of the stairs a full minute after he left.

"Waiting for someone?" the lanky guy questions casually, nodding towards the glass of water still in my hands.

Right. I gulp it down just as I did with the liquor and slide it over to him. I doubt it is going to do anything right now, but I desperately hope it works because the last thing I want is to be drunk in a room filled with strangers.

Where the hell did Elizabeth go?

"I'm Elliot," he murmurs, angling his head.

"Elena."

"I know."

"What?"

He chuckles again as my attention returns fully to him. I study him under the dim lights. He has boyish features and charm, but I can tell he is much older. I can see it in his eyes, the gaze of someone who knows more than they let on.

But unlike the grey-eyed man, he is warm and actually friendly.

"You work at Café Black," he continues, filling two red cups and handing one over to me.

I shake my head. "I've had enough for one night."

"It's red wine," Elliot says. "This should be easier for you to consume."

I accept it, even though I know he is wrong. I have a very low tolerance for alcohol consumed in any form. It doesn't matter that red wine doesn't contain as much alcohol as vodka. It has the same effect on me.

But Elliot doesn't have to know that. I am hoping Elizabeth will be back soon so we can head home. I have to be at the café tomorrow.

"You frequent there?" I ask, taking a sip. I really doubt it. I would have noticed him, seeing as sometimes, the manager makes me attend to every single customer. He hates me. I have to give him that. But I can't complain because he signs my paycheck.

Elliot shakes his head.

"I own it."

The red cup is in between my lips when he says that, and my head jerks backwards, taking in too much at once. I start coughing, and Elliot grabs the cup from me, placing it gingerly on the counter. Then, his hand comes down on my back, patting gently.

"I guess I should have given you that information in bits," he chuckles.

"No." I shake my head and clear my throat. He retrieves his hand just as I sit straight again. "I just wasn't expecting you to say that."

What if I had said something bad about the manager? Or worse, called it a shabby place. I would have been fired before tomorrow morning without even knowing the reason.

"It is one of my babies." He seems fond of it. I wonder if he knows how his manager runs it. But the only thing I can think of right now is how Elliot is my boss and I have been dared to kiss him.

The rest of the group has returned to playing the game, but I can still feel their eyes on me at intervals. They are waiting.

I can't do this.

"What is on your mind?" Elliot pushes slowly.

I shake my head.

"Come on," he drawls. "You don't have to act differently towards me just because I am your boss. And I don't even like calling myself that. It's the reason I leave staff matters to my manager. To you, tonight, I can just be Elliot."

My lips open and close in rapid succession. What am I supposed to say?

"I can see it in your eyes," he continues. "You came from that group over there, so let me guess. You were dared to kiss me?"

"Close," I whisper. "I was dared to kiss you and then get your number."

"But you don't have to do any of that," I add quickly, shaking my hands in his face for emphasis. "I don't mind losing the dare and having them make me do whatever they want me to do. You don't have to...."

"Do you know what they will make you do, Elena?"

I look at him wide-eyed.

"You will be dared to stand on a table and dance for the whole of the room to see, and that is if you are even allowed to do it clothed."

I swallow. "What kind of ...."

"They are very passionate about their games. A piece of advice. Next time, when you come here, don't join them. They made their own rules for the game because it works for them. I don't think it does for you."

"I don't think it does, either," I murmur, my gaze going back to the spot he was seated a while ago.

I don't know what is wrong with me. I need to stop thinking about those gray eyes.

"Here," he starts, hooking a finger on my chin. "And I'll give you my number too."

When his lips come down on mine, it is nothing like the explosion I have heard is associated with first kisses. Elliot feels warm and kind, and his lips taste of the same red wine as mine. It is slightly intoxicating, but he pulls away before anything can form.

I touch my chest, waiting for my heart to race. It is racing, but not from this kiss, not from Elliot. He reaches out for a napkin and retrieves a pen from his pocket, scribbling his number into it.

"You can call me if you like."

I laugh. "Thank you, Elliot."

A tall blonde lady walks into the room with a lot of brightness in her eyes. She heads over to us, but has her eyes on Elliot. Understanding, I get off the stool and walk away, but I do not join the circle.

Instead, I go up the stairs, trying to find a bathroom. With all that alcohol in my system, it is bound to happen at some point.

"Are you lost, pretty girl?" a man drawls from the hallway upstairs.

"Bathroom," I squeak.

He points to a door down the hallway, and I scurry in that direction. But when I push the door open, what jumps back at me does in no way resemble a bathroom.