Annelise Valentine felt her breath catch for a moment.
His presence was so powerful it seemed to absorb and diminish everyone else's. Jett Westgate's aura was just that strong.
The manager led the way. Their seats were in another area with a perfect view, separated from Jett Westgate and his group by a distance that was neither too far nor too close—just right.
But they had to walk past them.
Annelise Valentine paused for a moment, then followed the manager in her high heels.
As she passed the sofa, she didn't break her stride, but her gaze was drawn by an undeniable magnetism, forcing her to glance sideways.
In that exact instant, Jett Westgate happened to look up.
Their eyes met with no warning.
His gaze was deep, tinged with an icy coldness.
Annelise Valentine's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't look away. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, a hint of defiance in her expression.
No words were spoken, no gestures made, but they both knew exactly what was happening.
When they reached their spot, Zane Patterson made himself right at home. He practically collapsed into the sofa and unapologetically propped his legs up on the Obsidian coffee table, remarking,
"This sofa is mediocre. Not enough bounce. My back would hurt if I sat here too long. Is this really the best Nivelis can do? My old one at home is better."
Annelise Valentine smiled, seemingly pleased by Zane Patterson's disruptive commentary.
She paused deliberately, tilted her head slightly, and said to the manager, "Bring me every male model you have available here—bring them all to this floor. And I mean all of them."
"And the DJ downstairs? Tell him to change the music. Put the loudest, most explosive track on a loop. Don't stop. I like it."
"Bring out all your top-shelf liquor. I don't care if it's red, white, fragrant, or strong—bring me ten bottles of the best of each kind to start. Line them up right here."
"Also, put this on a loop on the big screen: 'Tonight, everything at Nivelis is on Annelise Valentine.'"
Hearing these demands, the manager instinctively glanced in Jett Westgate's direction. This kind of nouveau riche display was tantamount to dancing in a minefield around him.
Kian Miller lowered his voice. "Jett, look at her, acting all high and mighty. Hiring male models, covering everyone's tab... she's so desperate to show off her money. It's tacky!"
Hugo Summers, however, had a unique take. "From a business perspective, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. The people downstairs heard someone's covering the bill, and now they're all spending like crazy. At the very least, Nivelis's revenue for tonight will multiply several times over."
Kian Miller was taken aback by his strange perspective. "You think Nivelis is hurting for her money?"
The man at the center of the discussion, Jett Westgate, seemed completely detached from the situation.
He didn't even glance in Annelise Valentine's direction. He simply took a cigarette from its case, lowered his head, and lit it.
Of course, he knew what Annelise Valentine was up to.
Everyone in their circle knew the rules of Nivelis, especially her.
She was challenging him.
He let out a soft chuckle, but the sound was muffled by smoke, making it hard to discern.
Then, he casually lifted the hand holding his cigarette and gestured outward with a few fingers. The meaning was clear: do it.
Once he received the order, the manager immediately said, "Of course. If our honored guests would please wait a moment."
A moment later, neon letters began to scroll arrogantly across the massive circular screen on the first floor:
[Tonight's tab is covered exclusively by Miss Annelise Valentine!]
A few minutes later, every male model at Nivelis was standing before Annelise Valentine's table. A quick glance revealed thirty or forty of them.
Annelise Valentine didn't even get up. She just leaned back languidly in the sofa, her eyes slowly and deliberately scanning the lineup of men from left to right, one by one.
She extended a finger, pointing at the first man in line from a distance.
"You," she began, her voice crisp and critical. "Your height is okay, but your proportions are average. Legs aren't long enough. For a model, physical attributes are everything, understand?"
Her finger moved to the second man. "You. Is that more foundation on your face than I'm wearing? Too polished. You look effeminate."
"You. Shoulders are too narrow, can't fill out your clothes. Pass."
"You. Your gaze is shifty, not focused enough. A model needs presence. What's with this timid look?"
"And you. Your hair is too greasy. Not clean. Pass."
Annelise Valentine continued picking them apart, having gone through almost two full rows. "The male models in Aethelgard are really not up to par. They can't even compare to the most average ones at Skyline."
Chloe Fairchild, on the other hand, was watching with great interest, seeing nothing wrong with Annelise's critiques.
Sean Conrad shrank back a little, muttering to Zane Patterson, "She's so picky. I feel like she'd find fault with me too if I went up there..."
Zane Patterson, still sprawled on the sofa, patted his shoulder with a dismissive air:
"Have some confidence."
Sean Conrad's eyes lit up, thinking Zane Patterson was about to reassure him.
"Drop the 'I feel like' part."
Sean Conrad: "...???"
After all of Annelise's nitpicking, she reluctantly kept about ten of the most handsome models.
Soon, the once-spacious booth became lively.
Annelise's stunt left Kian Miller, Leo Lennox, and Hugo Summers stunned.
It wasn't that they were unworldly, but to "pick models" on such a grand, high-profile scale—like picking out radishes at a market—in a place like Nivelis, all while publicly trashing the host's offerings... "Arrogant" wasn't a strong enough word for it.
The models who remained quickly composed themselves, ready to provide excellent service to the two beautiful and wealthy top-tier clients before them.
They immediately pulled out all the stops, pouring wine, feeding them fruit, and showering them with compliments.
Chloe Fairchild was thoroughly enjoying herself, chatting with a model next to her who looked like he was of mixed heritage.
Annelise wasn't idle either. She ate fruit and drank wine, and whenever one of them made her laugh, she would glance up at them.
Zane Patterson's expression had been darkening ever since the models sat down. The low pressure he emanated was so palpable that the models who had initially thought to serve him too now subconsciously kept their distance.
In Veridia, Zane Patterson "had Annelise Valentine's back" in an absolutely dominant way.
Anyone in Veridia with half a brain knew that all the suitors buzzing around Miss Valentine had to first consider Mr. Patterson's mood.
His rules were simple: Annelise could play around and she could pick her companions, but those she chose had to know their place. They were absolutely forbidden from any proactive, line-crossing attempts to please her or touch her, and they certainly couldn't entertain any ulterior motives.
But this was Aethelgard.
These models didn't know the rules of Veridia. They only saw Annelise as the patron with the ultimate authority over their performance reviews and tips.
One of the bolder models tentatively brushed the back of Annelise Valentine's hand, his eyes holding just the right amount of seduction.
Zane Patterson's gaze was fixed murderously on the clueless model, the frustration in his chest growing heavier.
The "ban" from Veridia was null and void in Aethelgard.
And he couldn't find a reasonable way to interrupt this infuriating revelry without losing his composure.