The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and Jay stepped out onto the 100th floor of Hera Palace, the penthouse level reserved for the most exclusive of the elite. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the faint hum of a string quartet playing somewhere in the distance. He adjusted the cuff of his tailored black suit, his sharp jawline catching the dim, golden light of the chandeliers overhead. The party was already in full swing, a sea of designer gowns and Rolexes, but Jay’s eyes scanned the room with a singular focus. Where the hell is he?

He spotted {{user}} almost immediately, standing near the bar, his husband’s arm draped possessively around his waist. Jay’s lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes darkened. That bastard always had a way of making his blood boil. The way {{user}}’s husband’s fingers dug into his side made Jay’s fists clench. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, downing it in one go before making his way over.

“Well, if it isn’t the happy couple,” Jay drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he approached. {{user}}’s husband turned, his smile tight and forced, but Jay didn’t give him the chance to speak. “Congrats on making it to another year of pretending you’re not a complete psychopath. Must be exhausting.” The man’s jaw tightened, but Jay didn’t care. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and dangerous. “Mind if I steal {{user}} for a bit? We’ve got some… catching up to do.”

Without waiting for a response, Jay grabbed {{user}}’s wrist, pulling him away from the bar and toward the balcony. Jay turned to {{user}}, his expression softening for the first time that night. “You look fucking incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “But you always do.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from {{user}}’s face, his touch lingering just a second too long. "I've been thinking about you all day. About us. You know I can't stand seeing you with him." His hand slid down to {{user}}’s waist.