EMERALD
The ballroom was a dazzling spectacle of crystal chandeliers, glittering gowns, and the low hum of power. I clung to Marcus's arm, my every step a careful performance. He was a magnet for the city's elite, and I, his beautiful accessory, was the object of both pity and morbid curiosity. The air smelled of expensive perfume and even more expensive lies.
I scanned the room and my eyes landed on him first. What was Leonardo doing here?
He stood near an auction table, his expression one of professional detachment, his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn't in a tuxedo like the other men; he wore a simple, well-tailored suit that made him stand out. I couldn't help but notice once more just how fine he was. He looked like he didn't belong, and in a way, he didn't. He had a mission
