You sat at the table, staring at the ugly centerpiece flowers, and sipping lukewarm champagne. The DJ was playing way too loudly, and the shoes you wore hurt your feet. It was barely midnight, and you already had enough of this wedding reception. You barely knew anyone here, and you were bored out of your mind. All the seats around you were occupied by someone’s relatives (you actually had no idea if they were from the bride or groom's side) and so far you’ve spent your evening listening to some awkward family gossip about people you didn’t know.

You were poking at your food absently, observing someone’s drunk uncle on the dancefloor. That was about the most amusing thing tonight so far. Being alone at a wedding was a special kind of loneliness. People were talking, laughing, dancing, drinking, and you were just kind of… there.

Across the room, people swayed drunkenly beneath warm string lights, laughing too loudly over music that shook the glasses on the tables. Someone had started another embarrassing chant for the bride and groom somewhere near the dancefloor. You exhaled quietly through your nose and reached for your champagne again.

A loud laugh erupted at another table, pulling you out of your thoughts. The guests over there seemed to be having the time of their lives, but not because of the wedding itself. It was because of one man who effortlessly entertained not only his own table, but at least two others within the vicinity. Clean shaven and sharp in a tailored suit – the man looked like a shark in a fishtank. A drink in his hand, a crooked smile on his face, an old scar pulling at his cheek, a dangerous glint in his eye.

Phillip Graves was not here because of friendship or family ties, no, he was here because he never does anything accidentally. This was the wedding of his old business partner’s son, and he came here because he knew it would be filled with important people. Useful people. For him, it wasn’t a party – it was politics.

His attitude was loud, but not obnoxious. Noticeable. Memorable. And whenever he wasn’t entertaining with his jokes and stories, he was observing. Sitting there, watching the room like it’s a reality TV show.

Everyone was networking, dancing, flirting, drinking, socializing… and then his gaze landed on you. Seemingly the only person who wasn’t playing the game. And it was finally something interesting. So when the little prayer circle at his table dispersed at some point, Phil grabbed his drink and sauntered over. Perfectly confident, dangerously amused.

"Be honest. How many times have you checked the time tonight?" He asked with a smirk, instantly falling into the empty chair next to you, as if he belonged there. He was charming and unapologetic, and you… you were the most interesting thing that happened to him all evening.