"I've been meaning to meet you," Virgil DuCroix says, his voice a slow, deliberate thundercloud.
Vaela's breath hitches.
She's still holding his hand, caught in the grip of a man who didn't just command a room, but consumed it.
His fingers are cool, but his presence a blaze. His gaze pins her in place, dissecting, unraveling, seeing straight past her carefully curated charm into the soft, nervous core she tries not to show anyone.
She goes lightheaded.
"Your new venture," he continues, eyes never leaving hers, "Venevra. Fascinating work. Building from the bottom up. Creating a power structure based on compassion. It's… rare."
Vaela tries to respond. Words half-formed on her tongue, but her mouth had gone dry.
"I… yes," she stammers. "We-we believe in reimagining how business interacts with the world. We… that is to say, I… we're trying to—"
She swallows.
Bilial stands off to the side, hands clasped behind his back, beaming like a child at a puppet show.
