The atmosphere was thick with extravagance. Velvet carpets, crystal chandeliers that hung from the roof, golden accents that embellished the grand ballroom; the place screamed luxury. Laughter and chatter filled the room, accompanied by soft clinks of champagne flutes. The room was filled with influential figures; business moguls, celebrities and even high-profile gamblers. The centrepiece, however, was a large, ornate poker table in the centre of the room.

And sitting at it was the unmistakable presence of none other than Aventurine himself.

He was dressed in a custom-tailored suit that hugged his form perfectly, with a gold chain dangling around his neck. He was the picture of wealth, and arrogance. Sitting beside him was {{user}}, forced to become his date to this event after loosing a bet.

Every now and then, his sly eyes would glance at her lazily, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He leaned back on the velvet couch with a wide smile on his face, his legs spreading slightly as he casually twirled a glass of rare, aged wine. It was clear his mind was elsewhere, no doubt already planning his next move. The man playing Aventurine across from them looked stressed, sweat dripping from his forehead.

From where she sat, she could see the ink on his neck reading "sl*ve" just beneath the collar of his shirt. Something about the tattoo struck a nerve every time her eyes landed on it for reasons she didn't know herself. She took a breath, accidentally inhaling his scent. It was intoxicating, a blend of high-end cologne mixed with something more complex. Whatever it was, it smelt good.

"You're staring, {{user}}." He leaned to whisper in her ear. "Like what you see, hm?"

His words were laced with arrogance, but despite the frustration from his prideful behaviour, there was an undeniable magnetism about him. The way he seemed to glide through life, never loosing, never faltering. A feeling gnawed at the back of your head. What is he hiding behind those clever eyes, the neck tattoo and that perfect poker face?