Lights Up // f.w.

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summary / in which y/n runs into an old friend at a business party, and finds herself falling in love with the man he's become.

word count / 3.2k

warnings / alcohol, one overly confident man. very brief mentions of the war.

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The sight of the ballroom before Y/N had her stomach dropping. It was a large, elegant room filled with prestige guests from all across the country. A large, glistening chandelier hung from the tall ceiling, reflecting glitters all across the mundane walls. She felt uneasy, like every pair of eyes on each old painting was watching her closely.

Being an assistant to a businessman meant that she was required to tag along to these events. Her boss liked to have as many people on deck as possible, holding investors in conversation until he was ready to speak to them about his newest plans. Although, judging by how old and stuffy the investors were that evening, Y/N opted to stay by the bar instead.

She held a glass of champagne in her delicate hand, a blush, silk dress cascading down her body, a hint of her skin showing as the dress split to expose her leg. Her hair was pulled back, leaving her neck exposed. It was clear to the guests around her that she was so effortlessly stunning, her eyes trained on the rim of her glass as she swirled the pink, bubbly liquid. She couldn't even imagine paying any attention to the older men of the room, and her glass seemed to be the most interesting thing she could find.

She had arrived an hour before, trailing up the stairs straight out of her boss's sports car, she was thankful to have arrived with him, he was rather generous and despite being a wealthy, powerful man he wasn't as much as a prat as Y/N had thought he'd be. For that, she was thankful.

As she downed the last sip of champagne she turned back to the bartender for a refill. She sighed as she sipped cautiously on her new glass, restraining herself from downing the alcohol like she hoped she could.

A man approached out of the corner of her eye, taking a seat at the bar next to her, despite the empty seats across the counter. She shuffled in her seat, clearing her throat and turning so that she could no longer see the man in her peripherals. She heard him behind her ordering a glass of bourbon, and mentally rolled her eyes, already stereotyping the man as someone she did not want to be anywhere near.

She had hoped that after he ordered his drink he would return to the crowd, find a man to pester about money or a woman he could dance with. Luck didn't seem to be on her side that night as she felt a calloused finger on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, darling?"

She swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth as she turned to face him, feigning an innocent smile. He was a bit older than her, probably his late thirties. Dark hair done neatly on his head, perfectly complimenting his brown eyes and smooth, tan skin. He was handsome, and possibly to anyone hoping for a nice night, his charming smile would win them over, but Y/N wasn't looking for a nice night.

The man looked taken back as she turned to face him. His lashes fluttered as he blinked a few times, leaning back as if to get a better look at her. Y/N's brows furrowed, silently questioning his odd behavior.

"Apologies," He shook his head, a grin playing on his lips, "I'm sorry, I just didn't expect you to be so beautiful."

Y/N was quite sure she'd whip her wand out and hex the bloody git if the timing were right and the scene was appropriate. But she knew better, her boss was here, her boss's investors were here, and she was expected to be a nice, quiet young woman and do as she was told.

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