THIRD PERSON'S POV (NARRATOR'S POV)

Kane's gaze locked with Ross Bane's.

A scar traced up Ross's cheek, his jaw set like stone. Tattoos peeked tracing from beneath his unbuttoned collar, hinting at a past that didn't align with the polished setting.

He exuded a refined menace, like a mafia king in a tailored suit.

The room held its breath until Lucy Brent rose, champagne flute in hand. She tapped it gently with a pen, the chiming sound drawing attention.

"Ladies ...