The Grand Starlight Hotel didn't just have a lobby, it had a cavernous, marble-clad maw that seemed designed to swallow commoners whole. As Amara crossed the threshold, the sheer, unadulterated opulence of the Wang Enterprises gala hit her like a physical blow to the solar plexus.
Darien didn't slow down. He cut through the crowd with the focused, terrifying grace of a shark in a koi pond. Amara was practically trotting to keep up, hovering so close to his heels that she was essentially his shadow, or perhaps just a very expensive tail. Her eyes darted left and right, taking in the "shark tank." Women in gowns that cost more than her college education leaned into conversations with men whose smiles didn't quite reach their eyes. Everything glittered. Everything felt sharp.
Then, through the sea of tuxedos and champagne flutes, a familiar face appeared. Theron.
