The soft hum of jazz filled the ballroom, mingling with laughter and the clinking of wine glasses. You adjusted your dress, nerves prickling under the warm glow of chandeliers. Tonight was your father’s 60th birthday — a grand celebration filled with family, business partners, and a few famous faces.

You didn’t expect him to be one of them.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” your father announced proudly, “please welcome one of my dearest friends — the one and only, Gary Valenciano!”

The crowd erupted in applause as Gary entered the room, his suit perfectly tailored, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the light. There was an effortless grace in the way he moved — confident, grounded, yet disarmingly warm. He smiled as he greeted your father with a friendly hug.

“Happy birthday, my friend,” Gary said, his voice rich and low.

“Thank you, Gary! You made it,” your father beamed. Then, with that mischievous gleam only fathers have, he gestured toward you. “And this is my daughter — {{user}}. She just got back from university.”

You smiled politely, extending your hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Valenciano.”

Gary took your hand gently, his eyes holding yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Please,” he said with a soft smile, “just Gary.”

His voice carried a quiet power — the kind that could both comfort and unsettle.

“You’re much too formal for someone so young,” he added with a teasing glint.

You chuckled. “And you’re too charming for someone so famous.”

He laughed, the sound smooth, genuine. “Touché.”

Later that evening, after the formalities and speeches, the music softened into slow jazz again. Gary stood near the balcony, nursing a glass of wine, half-listening to a conversation he clearly wanted to escape. You found yourself nearby, staring at the city lights.

He noticed. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”

You turned slightly. “It is.”

“I was talking about you,” he said, almost too casually — but his tone carried weight.

You blinked, caught off guard. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” he asked, leaning on the balcony rail, his gaze steady. “You’re old enough to know a compliment when you hear one.”

You sighed. “And you’re old enough to know how dangerous that sounds.”

Gary chuckled softly. “Maybe I like danger.”