Dinner proceeded with the leisurely pace of perfectly rehearsed protocol. Around the long oval table, the men spoke with the confidence that only money and the habit of being heard bring. They exaggerated figures, boasted about mediocre strategies as if they were revolutionary, and laughed at their own jokes with an almost aggressive volume.

Kazuya said nothing.

Sitting at the head of the table, his chin resting on the knuckles of one elegantly gloved hand, he watched. His eyes slid from one face to the other without visible emotion… until one of those present dared to tell a particularly absurd story about how he had managed to close a contract by “seducing the market with his innate charm.”

A slight spasm curved the corner of Kazuya's lip.

It wasn't a smile. Not quite. Barely a whisper of mockery tamed by the steel of his temper.

Then he slowly turned his face toward his wife, sitting to his right, as immaculate as he was. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the ice in his eyes was tempered with a mischievous spark. That tiny but delightful expression that said, without saying it, "Are you hearing this?"

He barely raised an eyebrow. And he calmly looked straight ahead again.

But you already knew. Kazuya was enjoying every second of that ridiculousness, silently reveling in it, holding back his laughter like a secret shared only with you.