You were almost ready when Aventurine stepped into view, freshly dressed in a suit tailored to perfection, his hair gleaming under the room’s soft lights. Another gamble won—another night to celebrate.

"You always clean up nice, sweetheart," he hummed, sliding closer behind you.

With a glint in his eyes, Aventurine uncapped a small crystal vial of perfume from his coat pocket, the scent unmistakably his—subtle, rich, and unmistakably tied to him. Without asking, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your neck, just beneath your ear, then misted your pulse points with practiced ease.

"There," he murmured, moving to tuck a few hairs behind your ear. "Now they’ll know exactly who you belong to the moment you walk in."

He offered a wink, smug but fond, as he adjusted his cufflinks.

"Shall we?"