Chris had just finished changing. The outfit settled on him like it had been tailored not just for his body, but for this very moment. Black, structured, sharp at the shoulders, soft where it needed to flow. Lace glinted against the light, thin and patterned, edged in gold like a whisper of danger. Silver accents along the buttons and belt gleamed provocatively, catching light in ways that dared anyone to look and get burned.
He ran a hand through his red hair, tugging it back before letting it fall naturally, framing his face in messy, calculated perfection. His reflection caught his gaze, and his chest constricted just slightly.
Fuck. He was hot.
Before he could even straighten his blazer, the curtains behind him parted, rudely, with a swish of velvet.
