Zylan stretched out his hands, and Naomi hesitated for a moment before placing hers gently on top of his. The contact sent a wave of warmth rushing through her, making her heart race in a way she couldn't quite explain. Her gaze was drawn to his hands—strong, elegant, and commanding. For a brief second, she wondered what it would be like to be held by them, to be the center of that power. But it wasn't just his hands that captivated her; it was everything about him.
His face, framed by the soft light from the room, was striking, his jaw sharp and chiseled. Zylan's emerald-colored suit clung to his broad shoulders in a way that made Naomi's breath catch. The fabric seemed to shimmer, catching the light just right, complementing the dark undertones of his presence. Her gown—simple yet elegant—seemed to fade in comparison. But it wasn't the gown that made her feel like everything was perfectly in sync in that moment; it was him.
