Bella's POV
Business galas were my personal version of hell. All those fake smiles and hollow conversations, expensive champagne masking even more expensive lies. But Fiona had practically dragged me here tonight.
"Your restaurant is expanding, Bella," she had insisted earlier. "You need to network if you want to survive."
So here I stood in the corner of this glittering ballroom, nursing a glass of wine and trying to look like I belonged. The past hour had been torture, shaking hands with investors whose watches probably cost more than my monthly revenue.
Golden chandeliers cast warm light across the room, their glow reflecting off floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the city skyline. Waiters moved like ghosts between clusters of guests, their trays catching the light as laughter mixed with the low hum of business deals being whispered into existence.
