Outside Infinity Chaos Hotel, subtlety had packed its bags, surrendered its room key and fled Paradise before anyone could drag it into the convoy.
The entrance plaza had become a traffic jam designed by wealth, hormones and people who had never once checked the price of premium fuel. Hypercars lined the black stone beneath the hotel's towering gold-and-glass awning, their bodies flashing crimson, silver, pearl, jade and several shades of black that probably had patents, family trusts and private lawyers. Engines purred beneath polite idle limits while chauffeurs stood nearby pretending this was an ordinary morning rather than a royal migration powered by horsepower and unresolved romantic tension.
Hotel guests had stopped walking.
Staff members had stopped pretending not to stare.
Phones were rising everywhere around the plaza, because apparently privacy became a public suggestion the moment enough beautiful people gathered beside machinery worth small national budgets.
