Ephyra glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "I'm flattered, but I must decline," she said politely, setting her glass down on a nearby table.
"Are you sure?" he pressed, his tone light. "I promise not to step on your toes."
Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes held no warmth. "Quite sure. But thank you for the offer."
The man hesitated before nodding and retreating into the crowd.
Malia squealed, leaning in close. "Oh my God, Ephyra! Did you see the way he looked at you? That man was mesmerized. And you turned him down like it was nothing!"
Ephyra smirked, picking up her champagne again. "Because it was nothing. Men like him are drawn to mystery, not substance."
"Still," Malia pressed, her excitement undeterred. "You've got the entire room eating out of your hand, and you're not even trying."
