And there he was.
Oscar Parker carried presence the way other men wore suits, effortlessly, deliberately, as though it had been stitched into him long before tonight.
Even from a distance, nothing about him felt accidental. The sharp tailoring of his dark suit rested perfectly against his frame, his posture composed, his expression calm to the point of indifference.
Yet when his eyes found me, there was nothing distant about them.
They settled on me with quiet precision.measured, intentional,exactly how he wanted it to be seen.
The guard straightened immediately, his tone shifting as though something unseen had tightened around him.
"Sir, she doesn't have a reservation. I was just explaining—"
"And you thought this was the right way to handle it?" Oscar's voice cut through smoothly, low and controlled, carrying a faint French undertone that softened his words just enough to make them linger.
