Jenny and James stepped into the grand hall of the Universe Jewelry Fifth Anniversary Gala, their presence immediately enveloped by the splendor that glittered from every surface. The banquet hall was transformed into a fantastical palace sculpted in light and luxury. Radiant chandeliers poured starlight from the domed ceiling, casting a constellation of brilliance upon the sea of jewels on display. Each gemstone glowed with silent grandeur, whispering of opulence and aristocracy, exuding a charm that was nearly hypnotic in its allure.
Soft, flowing music wound through the air like a stream through marble, brushing gently against the ears of elegantly dressed guests. Laughter, refined smiles, and the gentle clinking of champagne glasses composed a delicate symphony of grace. People gathered in small groups, pausing to admire the jewel or engage in polished conversation. The atmosphere shimmered with excitement, yet remained steeped in sophistication.
James stood tall, his posture as unwavering as an ancient pine tree. His tailored black tuxedo sculpted his frame with precision, the clean lines amplifying the quiet strength and restraint in his demeanor. His eyes, deep and unreadable, held a stillness reminiscent of midnight lakes — composed, enigmatic, almost too calm, as though nothing in the world could ruffle their surface.
Jenny, on the other hand, was a portrait come to life. Her deep emerald silk gown draped over her like water, tracing every contour with elegance. With each graceful step, the fabric rippled like moonlight across a lake, hinting at the beauty and mystery beneath. She held James's arm, appearing at ease and poised, but a closer look at the curve of her lips or the flicker in her gaze revealed something more — something quieter, more personal. Beneath the poised surface, a subtle tension lingered in the touch of her fingers on his arm.
If one paid close attention, they might notice how the muscles in James's arm were ever so slightly tensed — a contrast to the calm he projected. It was a small betrayal of emotion, but revealing nonetheless. Perhaps the massage Jenny had given him in the car earlier had left more of an impression than he admitted, stirring something under the surface that he was now silently, stubbornly restraining.
As the evening reached its crescendo, the jewel presentation began — the undisputed highlight of the gala. Spotlights swept across the hall, narrowing to bright columns that illuminated the stage. Models glided forth one by one, adorned in exquisite garments and Universe's latest creations — pieces that wove traditional charm with contemporary craftsmanship.
Gasps echoed throughout the hall as each dazzling piece of jewelry caught the light, scattering it like liquid fire across the floor and ceiling. Applause erupted, interlaced with murmurs of admiration.
Jenny's eyes sparkled as she gazed at the stage. She leaned slightly closer to James and whispered, her breath brushing against his ear like a feather, "Uncle, these pieces are truly stunning. You really poured your heart into this."
There was a tease in her tone, subtle but unmistakable. James's expression flickered for just a moment — a barely perceptible crease in his brow — before he slightly edged away, his tone courteous but distant. "Yes. The team worked very hard. We hope they're well-received."
If he'd sensed the flirtation, he gave no sign. His voice was steady, smooth, like a stone unshaken by the wind.
Suddenly, the grand doors of the banquet hall were pushed open, and a striking figure entered, commanding immediate attention. Dressed in a wine-red, off-shoulder gown that shimmered with each step, Elizabeth Spencer made her entrance like royalty, descending upon a court. The daughter of the renowned Spencer Jewelry magnate, she was beauty and status incarnate — porcelain features framed in a halo of carefully styled hair, with an innate pride glinting in the tilt of her chin and the sharp flick of her gaze. She didn't walk; she claimed space.
Elizabeth had expected to be James's companion tonight. Their families had long discussed a business marriage, whispered through the smoke of aged brandy and boardroom deals. In her mind, it was only a matter of time — a formal announcement away from inevitability. So when she entered, fully prepared to step into the spotlight beside James, only to see another woman clinging to his arm, the fire of betrayal ignited within her. Her expression didn't falter — but her heels clicked harder against the marble as she strode toward them, each step sharper, quicker, slicing through the room's velvet air.
As she drew near, her lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "James," she purred, voice sugar-dipped with venom, "How could you come to such an important event without inviting me as your companion? I was sure I'd be at your side tonight. After all, we will get married very soon."
James turned to her, calm and unreadable. "Apologies, Miss Spencer. I already have a companion this evening."
Her smile tightened, cracking ever so slightly. Then she turned to Jenny and let out a breath of mock relief. "Oh! It's just your sister-in-law. No wonder you were so insistent."
Her gaze lingered, amusement giving way to something sharper. "Still, you know the Watson-Spencer alliance is not just some rumor. It carries weight."
Jenny's fingers curled tighter around her champagne glass, about to speak — but James stepped in first, her voice low but firm. "Miss Spencer, I've told you before. The so-called alliance is nothing more than a wishful tale between elders. Marriage is not a transaction to me. I'll make my own choices."
For a moment, silence. Then Elizabeth's lips curled into a cold smile. "You'll regret this, James." And with a dramatic pivot, she strode away, the sharp staccato of her heels echoing across the marble, each step a declaration of war.
The party resumed — or tried to. Jenny and James, now once again the center of attention, moved through the room with grace. Jenny laughed at jokes, nodded at business proposals, all while that earlier exchange hummed in the background of her mind like a warning note. Her gown shimmered, her glass sparkled, but her thoughts spiraled elsewhere.
James was no less composed. Whether exchanging business insights or receiving compliments from elders, he remained effortlessly charming, the perfect host. But his eyes flicked toward Jenny more often than he liked to admit.
Then — darkness.
A sudden blackout swept the room. A gasp, then a clatter of glasses. The music died. The crowd murmured in confusion.
Jenny instinctively leaned toward James, her heart racing. Before she could steady herself, someone bumped into her. Her wine glass slipped from her hand. She felt the cold splash of red against her skin, a gasp escaping her lips.
"Jenny—are you alright?" James's voice cut through the dark. His hand found her arm, firm and steadying.
"Y-yes... I think I just spilled—on you too," she whispered, feeling the soaked fabric cling to her body.
Minutes later, the lights returned. Relief spread across the room. The hotel manager rushed over, bowing in apology. James, regaining his composure, responded smoothly. "No harm done. Just please ensure it doesn't happen again."
Then, addressing the crowd: "Let's not let a little hiccup spoil the evening. Please — enjoy the night."
But his attention quickly returned to Jenny. He looked down at the ruined hem of her dress and the red stain spreading across his shirt.
"I've prepared spare outfits for both of us. Let's change," he said softly.
Jenny nodded. She followed him out under curious stares, both silent as they walked through the ornate corridor. She couldn't shake the image of the wine staining his white shirt, revealing the definition beneath. Nor could he ignore the way she clutched her gown, self-conscious yet undeniably graceful.
They reached the guest suites. Jenny entered one, James the other. Inside, she quickly changed into the fresh gown laid out for her — a soft, elegant design that complemented her figure.
Moments later, something shifted within her.
Jenny stepped out into the hallway, paused, and approached James's door. She hesitated only a moment before knocking — gently, deliberately.
*Knock, knock, knock.*
There was no answer. The handle turned. Unlocked.
She entered.
The shower in the ensuite bathroom was still running. She shut the door behind her, locked it.
The water stopped.
James stepped out, surprised. They stared at each other — the air suddenly too quiet, too charged, the distance between them shrinking by the second.