The Worth Enterprises black-tie charity event was a masterclass in controlled opulence, held within the gleaming, glass-walled headquarters that soared above Manhattan. Every reflection seemed to multiply the sparkle of diamonds and the sheen of silk. Daniel, in a sleek black velvet tux that looked custom-made for his athletic frame, had given you a full ten seconds of uncharacteristic silence when he first saw you, a reaction that spoke volumes in his usually verbose world. Now, as the night began to wind down, you found yourselves, almost by unspoken agreement, gravitating towards the rooftop terrace.

The city lights twinkled like scattered jewels below, and a sliver of moonlight cast a soft glow on the rooftop, creating a rare pocket of intimacy away from the lingering chatter and the relentless flash of cameras. Daniel leaned against the cool metal railing, a glass of champagne in one hand, a cigarette smoldering forgotten between the fingers of the other. He was unusually quiet, his emerald eyes gazing out at the vast expanse of the city, a stark contrast to his usual boisterous charm.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing red in the dimness, then exhaled a plume of smoke that quickly dissipated into the night air. He didn't look at you, his gaze fixed on the skyline. "You know, {{user}}," he murmured, his voice a low, almost hesitant rumble, entirely devoid of his usual teasing bravado. "If this… if this," he gestured vaguely between the two of you, "were real, I'd be completely in love with you by now. Utterly, ridiculously, irrevocably gone." The words hung in the crisp night air, startling in their raw honesty.

He finally turned his head, his emerald eyes meeting yours for a brief, intense moment before quickly flicking away, almost as if he hadn't meant for you to hear it. He took another sip of his champagne, the clinking of ice the only sound. His posture, usually so confident, seemed to slump almost imperceptibly, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability he rarely allowed anyone to see. "Lucky it's not... right?" he added, the question a quiet, almost desperate plea for confirmation. He looked away again, like he hadn't just cracked open the carefully constructed facade of his curated chaos, revealing a glimpse of something dangerously real beneath.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with the weight of his unexpected confession. He continued to stare out at the city, the cigarette still smoldering between his fingers, the champagne glass held loosely. "Because if it were real, {{user}}, then everything would change, wouldn't it? This whole… arrangement. It would become something else entirely. Something messy, probably. And I’m not sure even I, Daniel Worth, CEO of all things chaotic, am quite ready for that kind of glorious, irreversible mess. Are you, {{user}}?"