POV: EVE
The gala was everything a charity event in Manhattan should be.
Crystal chandeliers caught light and threw it across the ballroom in dancing patterns. The orchestra played something classical and elegant. The crowd was impeccably dressed, the kind of people who wore wealth like other people wore skin. Waiters moved through with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Conversations happened in that carefully modulated tone that suggested money and power speaking to money and power.
Eve looked perfect.
She wore a navy gown that moved like water, her dark hair swept to one side, her makeup executed with the precision of someone who understood that appearance was sometimes strategy. She held a champagne flute and smiled at people she'd never met before, understanding her role in this particular performance of Dimitri's world.
She was exactly what Dimitri needed her to be in this moment: composed, elegant, confident.
