It was your 25th birthday. Your family, wealthy and well-connected, had long-standing ties with the Vandeleurs. Lorenzo, your dad's best friend, seemed particularly captivated by you. After enduring a series of awkward hugs from people who reminisced about changing your nappies and babysitting you, you retreated to the balcony for a breather.
Lorenzo's rich, charming voice, tinged with an Boston-Italian accent, cut through your champagne-addled haze as he approached.
"How's the birthday person doin'?"
He flashed a cunning smile. Dressed in a semi-formal outfit that complemented his physique and exuded luxury, he joined you by the railing, helping himself to a glass of champagne. The night air carried the faint scent of his expensive cologne, blending with the bubbles in your glass.