It was his secretary! In the flesh! Alison Fellam, the woman who had failed to get him tickets for this very event, wearing a shiny black sheath dress and stretching up to kiss Liam Hennik on the cheek. At his exclamation, she started in surprise. “Max! What are you doing here? You’re not supposed…”

“Not supposed to what? To be here?”

Her face was red. “I mean, I thought you didn’t have tickets to this event.”

“You’re right, Alison. I didn’t. Even though you were supposed to have arranged them for me. And now it turns out you’re here. What’s this all about?”

She opened her eyes very wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on! We had a discussion about it this morning.”

She put on a sulky face. “Oh alright. I didn’t want you to come because I knew you’d try and schmooze Liam, and I didn’t want you to get the contract with his company.”

“You didn’t want…” Max’s mouth dropped open in total shock. “You mean to say you deliberately sabotaged me?! But why?”

“The contract proposal you drew up is clearly more advantageous for your company than for his. It wouldn’t have been good for Liam to take it. As his future wife, I have to have Liam’s best interests at heart.”

Alison said it all in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone. Max had to pause a moment to breathe deeply and contain his fury. All those times Alison had let him down, or “forgotten” to do something he’d asked. Now he wondered what other things she’d done to undermine his firm in the name of her own interests. “You’re fired,” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t bother coming in to collect your things. I’ll have them couriered to you.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” she exclaimed. “You have no right!”

“Of course I have the right! I’m the boss. And after this, how can you possibly imagine I’d ever trust you past the front door of my company again?”

“But it’s my job!” she wailed. “Father said you were desperate for an assistant. What will you do if I’m not there?”

“Apparently a great deal better than I’ve been doing with you there,” retorted Max.

“You need me!” Alison cried. Then she burst into tears, turning to sob onto Liam’s shoulder.

“Yeah, come on man,” Liam put in. “You can’t just fire her like that. At least give her a notice period.”

“She’s lucky I’m not suing her!”

“Hey man. Remember what I said about the contract? If you still want it, you better think pretty darn quickly about rehiring her. I mean it!”

“Perhaps we’re both better off without that contract. I wish you both a pleasant evening.” Head held high, Max spun on his heel and walked away from them, trying to ignore the twinge of regret in his heart at the thought of those lost millions.

He needed a drink.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

At the bar, he was just about to down his second whiskey when a hand grabbed his arm. Long nails painted a striking shade of deep violet dug into his arm through his shirt sleeve. He sighed. “Hello Rynda.”

“What the hell did you just do?” exclaimed Rynda, her face twisted in fury. “I came across Alison Fellam – we were at school together. She said you just fired her from your company? What the hell, Max? Don’t you know she’s Liam Hennik’s fiancée?”

“If he’s so convinced of her worth then he can hire her,” muttered Max. He’d really had enough of people pushing him around this evening.

“You better think twice about…”

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” he interrupted. “Yes! I fired her after I found out about her gross misconduct and sabotage. There’s no way I’m giving her the job back, no matter what you or Liam or anyone else says. If you don’t like it, you can join her in the Max Bilan’s Rejects Club. Heaven knows I could do with some peace!”

Rynda stared at him for a moment, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Finally, she turned on her heel and flounced away. Max watched her go with something like relief in his heart. All the work he’d done wooing her to accompany him, and this was how it had turned out.

Still, at least now he could dance with women who were willing to compliment him on his unusual suit.

A while later, after he’d downed his fourth whiskey, Max slapped his hands down on the bar and levered himself to his feet. He was ready to hit the dance floor again. And this time he meant business!

Feeling an urgent tugging on his sleeve, he turned. “What is it now?” It was Effie. There was something wrong with her illusion. He could see a very faint outline of her wings flapping agitatedly behind her. “Your wings!” He pointed at them.

“Max, you’ve got to leave, right now!” she said urgently. “It’s almost 11pm!”

“What’s the matter? That’s not very late. Besides, it’s not as if the boss is going to yell at me if I’m late for work tomorrow.” As he giggled at his own joke, it struck Max that he wasn’t entirely sober.

“I know, I know. Normally my spells last until midnight, but I forgot about the clocks going back for winter time. The spells will break in a few minutes, Max! You’ve got to get home NOW!”

“Oh! Oh, alright.” Max tried not to fall over as she pulled him by the sleeve straight across the dance floor and across the foyer. Being dragged about by various women seemed to be the story of his evening. “See you next year, girls!” he called, waving to a group of elderly ladies standing in the foyer. The ones that he had danced with earlier tittered and waved back. The rest tutted disapprovingly.

Outside, the coffee cup limo was waiting by the kerb, doors open, the chauffeur standing next to it, flapping her arms excitedly. Effie’s feet left the ground as she pulled him ever faster across the carpet towards the car. As they got closer, Max noticed a pool of something brown leaking from the back of the car. “Hey, the coffee’s leaking,” he exclaimed as Effie shoved him into the limo. The chauffeur slammed the door and then got herself around to the driver’s side by way of leaping onto the bonnet and off again the other side. Warbling excitedly, she entered the car, nodded to Max a few times and then started the engine.

What followed was something like what Max remembered from the roller-coasters of his youth. The car careered along, swaying and swerving around with a soundtrack of constant squawking from the driver. Max could have sworn that two of the wheels actually lifted from the ground each time they swung around a corner. At one point, he thought he saw flashing blue lights chasing them in the rear windscreen, but the next moment they’d disappeared.

They were passing the city cathedral when he heard the clock beginning to strike 11pm.

And then suddenly it was all over. The car disappeared, Max skidded a few metres, rolled over once, and then he was lying in the middle of a deserted street.

“I warned you.” He turned his head to see Effie standing a few metres away, shaking her head sadly. Her yellow dress was ragged and dirty and her feet were bare.

Max sat up slowly and rubbed the back of his head, brushing away bits of tarmac that had lodged in his hair. “Why on earth,” he exclaimed, “did I let you drag me away from that ball?!”

“What do you mean?” Effie looked mystified. “The spells were about to break.”

Max levered himself carefully to his feet. “Yes, but that’s just it. It didn’t matter! I was wearing a perfectly good suit before you turned it purple. I was already inside the ball, and I definitely didn’t need some crazy coffee-scented limo to get home!”

“But how…”

Max turned his back on her. Pulling out his phone he hit the third speed-dial. “Yes, hello? I’d like a taxi please. Yes, right away.”