Inside the banquet hall.
Under the soft lights, Sebastian Vanderbilt, clad in a suit of gleaming silver, leads Victoria by her delicate hand onto the dance floor. His deep and bright eyes exude confidence and composure, and his handsome face is lit with a gentle smile, displaying a calm demeanor as if nothing could ever ruffle him.
Victoria, as if caught by his influence, feels her initial panic subside, and her composure returns. The black and red hem of her dress sways as she looks at the reassuring figure before her, feeling her spirits lift with each step they take.
The moment Sebastian makes his appearance, the predatory gazes around them seem far less intimidating.
On the dance floor, the two become the absolute center of attention, overshadowing even the wedding couple, Sebastian's cousin.
Of course, it isn't just because of Sebastian's excellence.
But rather, a display of jealousy is far more gripping than a wedding, especially when those involved are of such noteworthy status.
Information is always the sharpest weapon for businessmen on the battlefield.
Fabio Caboat, the youngest grandson of the Caboat conglomerate, a young business prodigy.
Sebastian Vanderbilt, the talk of recent tabloid news from the Vanderbilt family overseas.
All eyes uncontrollably shift to the two, anticipating how the situation will unfold.
"I almost forgot to ask, do you dance?"
As Sebastian's voice whispers in her ear, Victoria comes back to her senses, looking at his smiling face. She would never admit her heart skips a beat.
Regaining her composure, she raises an eyebrow and responds, "You're asking if I can dance?"
"Mr. President, do you know how insulting such a question is to a popstar in entertainment business?" Victoria starts to say but halts.
She looks up at Sebastian, now up close, and is momentarily frozen as the robust scent of his cologne fills her senses, making her stiffen as if her blood had momentarily congealed.
"Call me 'Seb,' if you would like to."
Sebastian's voice is low in her ear, and while casting a lightly mocking glance at Fabio Caboat nearby, he says, "You're allowed only for today, so cherish it."
"What?" Before Victoria can respond, she is swept into the dance.
The Waltz.
Victoria's initial panic gives way to calm, and from being led, she finds herself matching Sebastian's movements, occasionally even taking the lead.
It feels comfortable. She doesn't like the feeling of being overshadowed by others and enjoys taking some initiative.
"You dance quite well." Victoria gives her praise, "Just the rumba alone would pass you among the trainees."
Sebastian doesn't reply but slightly looks down, the corners of his mouth curving upward, "My lady, you seem to have caused me quite some trouble just now."
Victoria, already over 5'10 in height, appears even taller in her heels, nearly eye level with Sebastian. He doesn't have to look down too much to see into her eyes.
Eyes that sparkle like stars, innocent and clear, with a dazzling purity.
"It all started by Mr. President's request of off-work duty, after all."
Victoria looks up, her face warming up, and under the soft light, her dark eyes shine even brighter.
She instinctively turns her head away from his gaze, her tone still full of disdain, "You call me over to help, but then you leave me alone in the hall…"
Then, as if remembering something, she looks back at him accusingly, "Was it your plan all along to remind me to refuse every dance, knowing this would happen?"
"You're accusing me unfairly." Sebastian seems aggrieved yet amused, "I certainly didn't ask Vicky to put on such beautiful makeup."
"Is… is it really beautiful?" Victoria's cheeks redden, her words stumbling slightly. She swears this is a reaction that wouldn't have happened before today. But somehow, she seems especially prone to blushing today.
Perhaps... Was it because the banquet hall is too warm?
"Splendid." Sebastian nods in affirmation, "The makeup artist you found is truly talented, managing to bring out the mature charm of you."
"Oh, so it's all the makeup artist's doing?" Victoria complains, "I am the one who is carrying the makeup, you know that, right?"
"Really?" Sebastian seems skeptical, and after a stylish spin, he asks, "So tell me, what's the sign of a person's maturity?"
"Of course I know." Victoria confidently says, "Being responsible, self-disciplined, strong, and caring. Do you know, Mr. President, the team says I'm becoming more mature..."
"Stability." Sebastian interrupts with a smile, then earnestly adds, "I treasure one's emotional stability the most."
"Emotional stability?" Victoria asks, slightly puzzled, "But what does that mean?"
She looks up at Sebastian, her deer-like eyes full of confusion.
"Maintaining grace in the face of anger," Sebastian says, his smile radiant as he watches Fabio Caboat approach.
On the fifth floor, through the transparent glass, every corner of the banquet hall is visible.
In front of a large window, two elders sit across a coffee table from each other.
"Thirty years ago, I told you if you could overcome your suspicious nature, Oceanic Group might have risen another level."
An amiable-looking elder sits on the sofa, leaning on a cane, glancing below while laughing, "Look at you, even being wary of family. Just by looking at this office, one can tell you haven't changed over the years."
"Without this suspicious nature, Oceanic Group would probably have become a subsidiary of Caboat by now," Nicholas Vanderbilt retorts with a sharp glint in his eye.
He will not forget that out of the five crises Oceanic Group has faced so far, three were orchestrated by the seemingly kind and friendly elder before him.
"Likewise, don't forget Caboat Group has also suffered heavily because of you," Richter Caboat narrows his eyes with a smile.
He cannot forget the ruthless tactics of this friend and foe; Caboat Group had once nearly fallen from the conglomerate ranks.
"It's because you pushed me too far," Nicholas counters.
"I can't be bothered to argue with you," Richter Caboat decisively drops the topic. He knows Nicholas too well; if a real argument broke out, the old man might not stop for three days until the other compromises.
At this moment... There seems to be some commotion downstairs.
Richter looks down, a smile returning to his aged eyes as he observes, "The youngsters seem to have stirred up some friction."