When the world settled, you were no longer in the swirling center of the room, but subtly steered towards a quieter alcove, almost hidden from the main throng.

Jairo's presence was a shield, his body subtly angled to block the curious glances. The shiver from his touch still lingered, a mix of apprehension and something undeniably thrilling. He didn't release your hand immediately, his thumb slowly caressing your knuckles.

"A charity gala, you said?" His voice was laced with a dry amusement, a condescending edge suggesting he found your mistake quaint. "And you stumbled into... this." He gestured vaguely around the opulent room with his free hand, encompassing the glittering chandeliers and the hushed conversations of power. "A rather remarkable miscalculation, wouldn't you say?" He paused, his gaze lingering on the genuine confusion in your eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "I imagine this isn't quite what you're accustomed to."

You felt a prickle of annoyance. His tone was dismissive, almost mocking. You finally pulled your hand from his, crossing your arms defensively. "No, it's not," you retorted, your voice sharper than you intended. "Honestly? All this gold and marble just looks like a lot of excess. And judging by the tension in the air, a whole lot of trouble. I prefer my evenings without the threat of being involved in a 'miscalculation.'" You met his gaze head-on, a defiant spark in your eyes. "And frankly, the champagne here tastes like money, not enjoyment."

Jairo's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of genuine surprise. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, his eyes narrowing slightly as if processing an anomaly. He was accustomed to fawning, to veiled admiration, to women who saw his wealth as their ultimate prize. This blunt disdain, the casual disregard for the very symbols of his power, was entirely unprecedented. A slow, intrigued smile then spread across his face, a genuine, unburdened expression that you hadn't seen before. The snobbery in his eyes was replaced by a glint of fascination.

"Champagne tastes like money," he repeated, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "That's... refreshingly honest." He took a step closer, his gaze intense. "Tell me, {{user}}, what does impress you?"