Only a few blocks away from the building where the negotiations had just concluded, another kind of frenzy was cresting toward its peak.
In the center of a sprawling private estate, the vast swimming pool shimmered in electric blue. Strips of colored lights traced the water's edge, casting shifting, dreamlike reflections across the rippling surface.
The bass from the electronic music pounded so violently it made the ribs vibrate and the heart thrum out of rhythm.
Crowding the poolside were men and women born into privilege—or who had bought their way there. They clutched cocktails, laughing too loudly, bodies swaying in lazy sync with the music.
Perfume, alcohol, and restless desire mingled thickly in the air.
At one of the round tables near the pool sat Evelyn Monroe.
Twenty years old. The only daughter of a publicly listed conglomerate in H Nation. A girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth—raised like porcelain, cherished as if she might shatter from a careless touch. The greatest hardship of her life so far had likely been studying abroad in M Nation.
She wore a pure white strapless mini dress, the fabric hugging her delicate frame. Her skin was luminous—soft, pale, almost translucent beneath the shifting lights.
Beside her sat her best friend, Chloe Styles, glittering in a sequined slip dress, eyes darting about in excited fascination.
"Evie, look! Look—three o'clock!"
Chloe leaned in close, her voice lowered but still trembling with barely contained delight. Warm breath brushed against Evelyn's ear.
"That one! Those abs! Oh my God—they look like carved chocolate bars!"
Evelyn followed her friend's pointed chin with a languid glance.
By the pool, a blond man in tight swim briefs was flexing with theatrical subtlety, his sculpted torso gleaming under the lights. Each abdominal ridge stood out sharply, lacquered in oil and vanity.
Evelyn wrinkled her nose faintly. She lifted her champagne flute and took a small sip. A sheen of moisture clung to her soft pink lips.
"Chocolate bars?" she murmured, her voice sweet enough to melt sugar. "Chloe, what kind of description is that?"
Her long lashes fluttered as she gave an almost imperceptible pout.
"They look so hard. Must be very uncomfortable. Definitely overdosed on protein powder… or worse––steroids."
She gently swirled the crystal glass in her hand, watching strings of bubbles rise and burst.
"Not a hint of… wildness. Nothing... real."
Chloe burst out laughing, about to tease her friend's standards, when a young man with slicked-back hair and a martini in hand drifted up to their table, his smile stretched wide and eager.
"Hey there, beautiful ladies." His gaze stuck shamelessly to Evelyn's face, his voice deliberately drawn out. "Isn't it lonely sitting here all by yourselves? Champagne's too tame. Vodka's where the real fun is."
He leaned closer, extending the glass toward her. "Try this. I promise it'll make you—"
A heavy wave of cologne and alcohol rolled over her. Evelyn's brows knitted instantly. She leaned back on instinct.
Chloe stepped in with a bright, practiced smile. "Thanks, handsome, but Evie's sticking with champagne. She's got a delicate stomach—hard liquor's not her thing."
Before the man could persist, another tall guy in a loud floral shirt squeezed in, two cocktails in hand.
"Sweethearts, how about this?" he said with a grin. "'No Going Home Tonight'—special mix! Guaranteed to make you—"
Evelyn stared at the strangely colored liquid and felt her pampered stomach churn.
The deafening music. The murky air. The constant stream of men with obvious agendas closing in one after another... Her irritation mounted.
She set her champagne down and tapped her fingers lightly against the tabletop.
"Chloe, it's so loud. And the air's awful. I'm getting a little dizzy. I'm going to get some fresh air."
Chloe, currently caught in conversation with an undeniably handsome stranger, waved absentmindedly. "Mm-hmm, okay! Go ahead—I'll find you in a bit!"
Evelyn nodded and rose to her feet. The hem of her white dress fell high against her thighs, and beneath the shifting lights, her long legs glowed almost blindingly pale.
Balancing on slender heels, she stepped off the stone terrace and headed toward a quieter path winding deeper into the estate.
The further she walked, the softer the music became.
Then... She sensed it.
A second set of footsteps behind her.
Heavier.
Closer than comfortable.
A faint chill prickled along her spine.
She stopped abruptly and began to turn—
"Ugh—!" She collided solidly with something immovable.
Or rather—someone.
Her nose struck hard against what felt like a wall of muscle.
Pain bloomed instantly. Who was it?