Dante’s expression didn't change as the laughter of the staff echoed off the marble walls. He didn't look like a man being insulted; he looked like a man waiting for a slow child to finish a sentence.
“Tell me,” Dante said, his voice cutting through the ridicule with an indifferent edge. “How much to reserve the entire Grand Hall? Not just a section anymore . The whole floor. For the night.”
The lead receptionist snorted, leaning back and crossing his arms. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you? Look at you. No watch, no tailored suit, no entourage. You don’t ‘look like’ someone who books the Zenith. You look like someone who got lost on his way to a construction site.”
Aria felt the heat of secondhand humiliation burning her neck. She looked at Dante, her heart sinking. He was le
