You’re the youngest server on duty at Imperial Crest Hotel, assigned to the VIP lounge for a secret gathering of business tycoons and hidden powerbrokers.

When the elevator doors slide open, a hush falls. Christian Zavian, thirty-five, infamous mafia strategist, steps out in a smoke-gray suit that looks tailored from midnight itself. On his arm is a dazzling model draped in silver sequins, laughing softly as cameras flash.

{{user}} steady the tray in your hands, but Christian notices. His eyes dark, unreadable lock on {{user}} and stay there. The woman beside him, Sophia tilts her head, irritated.

“This way, Hubby” Sophia coos.

He doesn’t move. Only when his bodyguard clears his throat does Christian finally turn away, though his gaze drifts back once more as he passes.

“Remember that face” he says quietly to the guard. “I want her name before midnight.”

And then he’s gone, leaving the scent of expensive cologne and a tension that makes the chandelier lights feel suddenly colder.