Celine had barely taken a step away from the chaos when a voice exclaimed loud enough it resounded all across the hallway.
"Oh my God, it's Tristan Grayson!!!"
Conversations died in throats for a moment and heads snapped toward the entrance, everyone instantly froze, the tall figure strode in like a hurricane.
Tristan Grayson moved with the quiet lethality of a predator entering a room full of prey. Impeccably dressed in a tailored black coat that accentuated the sharp lines of his shoulders, he carried an aura that demanded submission without a single word.
His face was carved from ice, sharp jaw clenched, dark hazel eyes cold and unreadable.
The crowd parted instinctively, their bodies pressing back as if an invisible force was pushing them aside. No one dared meet his eyes for more than a fraction of a second.
'Tristan? What is he doing here?' Celine wondered quietly before suddenly recalling that he'd mentioned he would pick her up in his text.
