The Gala
The black car slowed to a stop beneath the glittering lights of the Grand Blake Hotel, its polished exterior reflecting the flash of waiting cameras. A crowd of journalists, guests, and curious onlookers had already gathered, murmurs rising as they recognized the emblem on the vehicle.
Inside, Adrian adjusted the cuff of his suit jacket, his expression unreadable. His black tuxedo was sharp and classic, made even more striking by the emerald-green pocket square tucked neatly into his jacket—a subtle but intentional match to the dress Raya wore.
He glanced sideways at her.
"Don't disappoint me," he said, his voice low and flat.
Raya's hands tightened briefly on the small purse in her lap. But she met his gaze and gave a single, nervous nod.
The door was opened.
Before she could overthink it, she stepped out, one heel after another touching the carpeted pavement with practiced grace.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
The cameras fired instantly.
