KAEL
I didn't care for parties. Too many perfumes masking desperation, too many hands grasping for a piece of me under the guise of toasts and business cards. But just like my father had taught me, I tolerated them—for power, for appearances, for control.
But tonight, for her.
The music was low and sultry, the kind that wrapped around you like smoke. A subtle crowd shifted as we entered—men in tailored suits, women in silk and diamonds, and dancers in traditional kimono moving like whispered promises under the warm gold lighting.
But none of it held my attention.
It was her. Aria. On my arm.
She wore the midnight black gown I chose for her like it was spun onto her skin, hugging every dip and curve, that smooth expanse of her back on full display, delicate chains trailing down her spine like temptation itself. The slit in her dress gave teasing glimpses of her leg with every step, and the way her hips swayed—it was fucking criminal.
