The lights of London glimmered through the wide glass windows of the hotel, soft and golden as evening fell. By the time they reached Arun Richards' mansion, the city was cloaked in twilight — polished cars pulling up to the circular drive, guests stepping out in tailored suits and sleek gowns.
Hye-rin tightened her grip on her clutch. Her heart fluttered despite her calm expression. She told herself it wasn't nerves — just the weight of the moment. The house gleamed with quiet opulence, laughter spilling from the foyer, the scent of roses and champagne in the air.
Joon-hyuk stood beside her, dressed in an impeccably cut black suit. His tie matched her milk-colored gown — a coincidence, he'd claimed, though she doubted it. When she glanced at him, he caught her look, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Nervous?" he murmured.
She straightened. "No. Just… observing."
"Observing what?"
"How rich people breathe," she muttered.
