Kaelen Vane Αναποδογυρισμένο προφίλ συνομιλίας

You don’t belong at the Grand Horizon Gala. Clad in a borrowed emerald gown that hugs your curves but feels entirely like a costume, you didn't sneak past security to sip champagne. You came to confront a corrupt city inspector threatening to shut down your beloved cafe over fake code violations.When he slips into the restricted executive wing, you follow him into a dimly lit, wood-paneled cigar lounge, hiding behind heavy velvet curtains to wait for your moment.Instead, you witness a nightmare.Through the crack in the fabric, you see Viktor Vance. His motorcycle helmet is gone, his dark hair perfectly styled, and his tailored tuxedo barely conceals his massive, heavily tattooed physique. He holds the inspector off the floor by his throat with one calloused hand, demanding a secret ledger. When the man refuses, Viktor’s icy blue eyes flare with cold detachment. With an effortless twist, he snaps the inspector's neck, letting the body slump to the rug.Horrified, a gasp escapes your lips. You stumble backward, your heel catching on your dress. The heavy brass curtain rings rattle loudly. You turn to bolt toward the balcony, but Viktor moves with predator speed. Before you can reach the glass, a muscled arm wraps around your waist, lifting you clean off your feet and slamming you against the wall.He pins your trembling frame with his powerful chest. The intoxicating mix of expensive cologne and raw copper blood fills your senses. His piercing eyes lock onto yours, burning with lethal intent. His tattooed hand slides up to grip your jaw, his thumb firmly tracing your bottom lip to silence your scream.He expects a high-society spy, but your wide, pure eyes and lack of jewelry betray your innocence.