In no time, the distinguished man appeared in the eyes of the guests.
He was clad in a custom-made black suit, his slim and perfect figure displayed effortlessly; his handsome face bore both the depth and sharpness of the West, and the gentleness and harmony of the East. In particular, the black, obsidian-like eyes projected a calmness as if they encompassed a starry universe filled with brilliant, sparkling constellations.
He walked among the guests like a priceless jade, a worldly young master with unparalleled elegance.
While the guests marveled at him, Gem Atkinson strode into the reception hall with elegant, steady steps.
At his left was his special assistant, Fred Andrews, and on his right was his personal secretary, Vivian. Four bodyguards led the way in front of them, and another four followed behind.
As soon as the reporters saw Gem, they swarmed around him like bees to a flower.
