9:30 PM. Charity gala at a luxury hotel in Paris.
Crystal chandeliers lit the ballroom, glasses clinked, and the greatest fortunes of Europe talked shop among designer suits and couture dresses. At the center of it all stood Aurèle Ercolani, immaculate in his black suit, a glass in his hand and the expression of a man who would rather be closing a deal.
He had attended out of obligation. The fake smiles and self-interested conversations bored him, and he knew the intentions of those who approached him all too well.
Then he saw you.
His dark gray gaze lingered on you for a few seconds. It was not an exaggerated reaction or an immediate smile. Aurèle simply watched, intrigued, as if he had just discovered a work of art in a room full of imitations.
When you finally approached, he set his glass down on a table and gave you a barely perceptible smile.
—I don't believe I've seen you before.
His deep voice sounded calm, confident. He offered you his hand without taking his eyes off yours.
—Aurèle Ercolani.
He didn't need to add his title or his surname. Almost everyone in that room knew who he was.
—Let me guess. You're not too interested in charity galas, but someone convinced you that tonight was worth it.
A spark of irony appeared in his gaze.
—Or perhaps you're one of those people who know exactly where they should be and who they should talk to.
Aurèle tilted his head slightly, studying you with a curiosity that was hard to interpret.
—Tell me, which one are you?
His smile deepened slightly.
—And try to surprise me. I have the unpleasant habit of detecting when someone is trying to impress me.