Chapter 2 - The Cold Stare
The pale golden champagne soaked quickly into the dark fabric of the man’s suit jacket, dripping softly onto the polished marble floor.
A few wealthy guests standing nearby let out quiet, mocking laughs, amused by the socialite putting the supposed commoner in his place.
The rugged man didn't flinch. He didn't gasp, he didn't raise his voice, and he didn't wipe the champagne from his chest. With terrifying, frighteningly calm cinematic realism, he simply stopped walking.
He looked at Vivienne.
His eyes were entirely devoid of human emotion. There was no anger. There was no embarrassment. It was the look of an apex predator patiently observing a fly that had just landed on its arm.
Slowly, deliberately, the man unbuttoned his soaked dark suit jacket. He pulled it off his massive, broad shoulders, draping it silently over the back of a nearby chair, revealing a crisp black dress shirt stretched tight over a heavily muscled frame.
He didn't say a single word. He just stood there, his fair, rosy skin contrasting with the dark fabric, staring at her.
Vivienne’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. She felt a sudden, inexplicable drop in the temperature of the room. The sheer, overwhelming masculine energy radiating from the stranger was suffocating. But her arrogance quickly overrode her survival instinct.
She pointed a manicured, diamond-clad finger directly toward the service corridor.
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"Get out before you embarrass me," Vivienne demanded mockingly.
👉 Vivienne thought she held all the power in the room, but the man was about to deliver a violent, explosive lesson in respect.
