|Casmira's POV|
I hate parties.
The blaring music, the suffocating perfume of socialites mingling, and the relentless small talk—it's all a facade I've mastered over the years. But tonight, it's worse. The charity gala is buzzing with people I barely tolerate, each one vying for a moment of my attention. The pretense of goodwill is nauseating, but I'm here for the company's image, not my own comfort.
Across the room, I catch Draven's dark eyes locked on me. He stands near the bar, drink in hand, exuding a calm authority that doesn't belong to an assistant. He's out of place in this world, and yet, he wears his confidence like a weapon.
I try to ignore the magnetic pull of his gaze, but it's futile. Every time I glance his way, I feel the heat of his scrutiny, like he's silently remindi
