Page 17 of Eat Slay Love

I exhaled, letting it settle into my skin.

Alright. This place is going to blow my mind.

There were others in the space too. Around seven couples, each of them beautiful, privileged, and exuding the kind of effortless wealth that didn’t need to be flaunted—it simply existed in the way they moved, the way they carried themselves.

Elegant.

Poised.

Men in tailored suits, women in dazzling gowns, furs draped over shoulders, diamonds sparkling.

Their hushed conversations spilled between soft laughter and murmured flirtations.

An older man with a sharp jawline whispered something to his much younger companion, his Patek Philippe glinting as he brushed his knuckles along the pearls at her throat.

Another woman adjusted her Cartier bracelet, leaning into her date as if he were the most fascinating man in the world.

The air crackled with intimacy and indulgence.

I inhaled slowly, steadying myself, trying not to feel like the outsider in my shimmering pink gown.

Then, I felt it.

That feeling.

The unmistakable weight of being watched.

I turned my head, pulse kicking up, and foundhim, standing ten feet away.

Tall.

Dark.

Ridiculously handsome.

Like. . .panty-wetting.

A man built for Hollywood camera lenses and self-touching fantasies.

Leading man fine—razor-sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, lips that looked sinful even when at rest.

Yet he stood there, six feet tall and in the flesh, boldly watchingmewithout the slightest hint of shame.

Oh damn.

His eyes—unholy green, the color of emeralds held up to candlelight—burned into me as if they saw something deeper than what I had let the world see.

I bet when he first walked in here, the very space sighed.

His black hair was dark and effortlessly tousled.

His body was slim, but toned like he worked out weekly not for strength, but for control.

And he was dressed in a sleek tuxedo that must have been intended to trigger visual orgasms.

Yet. . .there was something foreign about him too. Something too elegantly refined about him to say that he was American.

His very stance screamed that he was a man who had grown up on luxury.

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