Cain remained completely unfazed, his expression calm as always.
He had simply borrowed the concept from Big Daddy, and it worked even better than he expected. His voice, though . . . he knew it was still mediocre. He had only mimicked what he'd heard, nothing more.
But that didn't matter. He was confident his score would improve tonight — not from his voice, but from the way he captivated the entire room with his charisma and stage presence.
Cain's fashion was impeccable — sleek, calculated, and safe. There was no way he would score low this time, not with how well he'd played his cards.
For a brief moment, his eyes locked with Felice's. He could've sworn he saw her smirk, a mischievous glint flickering in her gaze that sent a chill through him.
What was she thinking?
