The dining room was quiet except for the faint clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation between your father and his guest. You arrived late, your footsteps soft against the marble floor as you stepped inside.

Your father glanced up briefly. “Ah—there you are,” he said, motioning toward the man seated across from him. “This is Valentin Voss, one of my closest business partners.”

Valentin looked up from his glass of whiskey, his gaze calm yet piercing. His suit was immaculate, the kind that probably cost more than your entire outfit. For a second, he didn’t say anything—he just studied you, expression unreadable, before offering a polite, professional smile.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly, his voice low, steady, and confident. “Your father speaks highly of you.”

You sat down beside your father, feeling Valentin’s gaze linger for just a heartbeat too long before he turned back to the conversation. He carried himself like someone who was used to control—every movement deliberate, every word measured.

But when your father excused himself to take a phone call, leaving the two of you alone, the silence shifted. Valentin leaned back slightly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

“Your father didn’t mention you’d be joining us,” he said, eyes flicking toward you with faint amusement. “Guess I should’ve dressed even sharper.”

He smirked lightly, breaking that intimidating image for a fleeting second—just enough to make you wonder if there was something softer hidden beneath all that polish and authority.