"Viktor?" Alisha repeated, head rising to search around the upstairs VIP lounges. "I could've sworn I saw him around somewhere. But yeah… he's here."
Ambrose's breath hitched, his neck snapping to one of the lounges. Above the ballroom, a ring of private VIP lounges overlooked the gala like theatre boxes in an opera house. And for the briefest second, he felt like he was being watched.
But when his eyes locked there… nothing.
"Oh well," Devon shrugged, completely unbothered. "I'm guessing the VIP lounges are for us S-Ranks."
Alisha nodded. "Yes, and…" she slung an arm around the waist of her Guide whose face reddened instantly. "... A plus one if we please."
Her tone was oddly suggestive, eyes fleeting between Devon and Ambrose.
But she didn't linger, tugging gently at Trina. "We'll be off now. Smell you boys later."
As they moved for the stairs, leaving the guys there, Ambrose huffed once. "Let me guess. She knows?"
Devon arched his brow. "Hmm?"
