Why me?

Eve was hoping, no, needed to make a good impression. She was three weeks into her new job, a lowly office assistant, usually lost in the background of a busy office, more likely to fetch coffee than hold anyone’s attention.

This weekend was different, it was her time to shine. A night in a fancy hotel, drinks at the bar, then the inevitable team-building exercise tomorrow.

She stood at the entrance to the busy bar, five foot eight and closer to six in heels. Her auburn hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders as her bright blue eyes swept the room.

She’d bought a new long green silk dress, cut high along one leg, and carried a black clutch to finish the look. Heads turned as the lift doors shut. The dress was designed to make a statement.

She looked a million dollars in the dress.

Only she wasn’t wearing the dress anymore.

It hung in shredded ruin somewhere behind her, claimed by the lift doors.

Now every eye in the room was fixed on her for a very different reason. In nothing but a lace mesh thong, black heels and her clutch, she was naked.

Her heart hammered, a sharp, insistent drumbeat as she paused. Run or stay. Disappear or own it.

Eve drew a slow breath, smoothed the moment flat.

She walked toward the bar, willing her legs to stay steady.

The bartender raised an eyebrow.

“Are we in the mood for something conventional,” she asked, pausing with a sly smile, “or something a little risqué?”

“Double vodka, straight up,” Eve replied, her galloping heartbeat easing slightly as she slipped onto an empty bar stool. “So much for making a good impression.”

The bartender set the drink down. “I’ve seen worse entrances.” she said, amused, perhaps even a little pressed.

There it was. Not laughter. Not outrage. Not even the hushed, scandalised whisper Eve had braced herself for.

Interest.

It rippled through the bar like a current finding a new path.

Eve let that sink in as she lifted the glass, the cold bite of vodka grounding her. The first sip burned clean and honest, a small victory. If the world insisted on turning her into a spectacle, she could at least choose the flavour of it.

“Well,” she said, setting the glass down with deliberate calm, “that’s reassuring.”

The bartender leaned lightly on the counter, eyes flicking over Eve with professional curiosity rather than judgement. “Elevator accident?”

“Violent disagreement with a closing door,” Eve replied. “The door won.”

A corner of the bartender’s mouth curled. “They usually do.”

Eve exhaled a quiet laugh, tension loosening another notch. Around her, conversations had resumed, though not entirely. Glances still landed, lingered, slid away again. A few people were pretending very hard not to look, which somehow made it worse. Or better. She wasn’t sure yet.

“You’re taking it remarkably well,” the bartender said.

Eve considered that. Her pulse was still sprinting, her skin prickling under the weight of open air and open attention. Every movement reminded her of exactly how little she was wearing. But beneath the nerves, something else had sparked. Something sharper.

“If I run,” she said, “I’m the girl who fled the bar naked.”

“And if you stay?”

Eve picked up her drink again, meeting the bartender’s gaze with a steadiness she didn’t entirely feel yet. “Then I’m the girl who walked in like this and ordered vodka.”

The bartender gave a soft, approving nod. “Good answer.” as she poured another double vodka.

A voice from her left chimed in. “Great answer, actually.”

Eve turned.

One of her colleagues. Daniel from accounts. Of course it would be someone from her department. Fate had a sense of humour and apparently no off switch.

His tie was already loosened, jacket slung over one shoulder, expression hovering somewhere between impressed and deeply entertained. “I was wondering if that was you,” he said.

Eve arched a brow. “In the flesh.” she raised her glass, “apparently.”

“I can see.” His eyes flicked downward for half a second, then snapped back up, to his credit. “Bold new dress code.”

“Limited edition,” she said smoothly. “Very exclusive.”

He huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… for what it’s worth, you’ve definitely made an impression.”

There it was again. That word.

Eve felt something settle into place inside her, like a lock clicking open.

Good.

“Then I suppose,” she said, sliding off the bar stool with a fluid, deliberate grace that surprised even her, “I should make the most of it.”

She picked up her clutch, squared her shoulders, and turned—not toward the exit, but deeper into the bar. Toward the cluster of familiar faces from the office. Toward the team she’d planned to quietly blend into.

Heads turned again as she approached.

This time, she didn’t flinch, she held her head high.

Let them look.

Eve Brook, office assistant, background extra, coffee-fetcher…

…had just rewritten her entrance.

And tomorrow’s team-building exercise?

That was going to be very, very interesting