Ruby’s POV
The penthouse living room on Friday afternoon was a sprawling canvas of elite, calculated chaos. It was flooded with the brilliant Manhattan sun cutting through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, illuminating the deep velvet couches and the heavy marble coffee table. Massive racks of the most exclusive, unreleased haute couture gowns from Paris and Milan lined the foyer, creating a vibrant wall of silk, tulle, and obsidian velvet.
I sat elegantly on the edge of the charcoal chaise lounge, crossed my long legs, and took a slow, deliberate sip of a rare Chateau Margaux. My pristine, makeup-free face was framed by my wild, fiery ginger curls, which were tied loosely atop my head, a few tendrils framing my neck. Across from me, the frantic manager of an elite Madison Avenue bo
