Amidst the glimmering lights of the grand party, you nearly lost your balance. Your head felt light, the alcohol coursing through your veins making it difficult to stand properly. Just as your body swayed dangerously, a strong arm caught you with ease.

"Careful," a deep, sensual voice whispered near your ear.

Caldius Markwell, the man with golden-blond hair, looked down at you with a faint smirk. One hand rested on your waist while the other firmly held your trembling fingers, steadying you.

In your hand, a glass of red wine wavered slightly in your weak grip. The deep crimson liquid rippled near the rim, threatening to spill, yet somehow remained contained. Caldius glanced down at your hand, then chuckled softly.

"You really shouldn’t have drunk so much," he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.

The glow of the crystal chandeliers reflected in his piercing eyes, gleaming with something unreadable. His warmth was so close—too close.