Rowan and Mila stepped out of the boss's office, their conversation naturally flowing toward the anticipated guests set to arrive that night. Mila, as always, was brimming with enthusiasm, her eyes glinting with excitement.
"Can you imagine the kind of people they'll be?" She mused, nudging Rowan playfully as they strolled back toward the bar. "We're talking about high-class elites here, Rowan. Not just your everyday VIPs, but actual power players."
Rowan, on the other hand, was far less enthused. He kept his gaze forward, his usual cool composure slightly disrupted. There was something lurking in his expression—something unreadable.
Mila, too lost in her own excitement, failed to notice his slight shift in mood.
"I just hope they're interesting," She continued, brushing her fingers through her hair. "Maybe we'll even get some good tips out of them if we impress them enough."
Rowan let out a short, noncommittal hum in response.
By the time they reached the bar, the club had begun to liven up. The evening rush was just starting, the low hum of conversation and music intertwining in a rhythmic dance of nightlife energy.
The bar itself was only half-full, but with time, it would reach its peak.
As always, Rowan busied himself with his work, crafting drinks with fluid precision while keeping up with small talk from regulars. Every so often, his eyes flickered toward the entrance, keeping an unconscious watch. The moment of arrival was drawing near.
Then, at precisely 9:30 PM, the atmosphere subtly shifted.
From the corner of his eye, Rowan spotted movement near the main entrance. The doors parted, and through them stepped his boss Silas Moreau. His usual composed demeanor remained, but there was an extra edge of polish—his hair was meticulously combed, his suit adjusted to perfection and a sharp, charming smile adorned his lips.
He scanned the room briefly before signaling Mila over. Without hesitation, she smoothed out her dress and hurried to his side, eager to meet the VIPs firsthand.
Rowan remained behind the bar, hands deftly moving as he poured a drink, yet his gaze flickered toward the entrance.
The moment Selene stepped through the door, time seemed to slow.
She was a vision—tall, poised, with an aura of confidence that demanded attention without needing to utter a word. Her silver-blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves, catching the dim light in a way that made it shimmer like liquid moonlight. Her eyes, a shade of piercing steel blue, held an unspoken sharpness, glinting with intelligence and quiet curiosity as she scanned the venue.
The short, form-fitting party dress she wore only accentuated her natural beauty. Elegant yet undeniably alluring, it framed her toned figure in a way that left onlookers utterly captivated.
Nearly every man's gaze instinctively followed her path.
Desire. Admiration. Awe.
The room had fallen under her spell in an instant.
Rowan's grip tightened around the glass he was holding.
Something about her stirred something within him—a memory, a ghost of the past.
For the briefest moment, his composed mask faltered, his eyes betraying a flicker of unease.
But only for a second.
Burying the momentary lapse, Rowan shifted his focus, forcing his attention to the rest of the group.
Trailing close behind Selene was another young woman, striking in a different way.
While Selene carried an aura of intelligence and power, this woman exuded something softer—something delicate.
Her beauty was understated, a natural elegance that felt effortless. The full-length dress she wore, modest in comparison to Selene's, draped gracefully around her frame, revealing little skin yet enhancing her quiet allure. There was an innocence to her, a warmth that invited care and protection rather than desire.
The contrast between the two women was stark but compelling.
Following behind the two of them was a man with two female companions.
Dressed in a sleek, form-fitting party suit, he carried himself with effortless charm. There was an undeniable playfulness in his demeanor, the kind of man who could effortlessly make friends in any room he entered.
Hooked onto his arm was a red-haired beauty with striking brown eyes.
If Selene commanded admiration and the second woman embodied elegance, this woman radiated sultriness.
Her presence was intoxicating, a blend of flirtation and allure that turned heads as naturally as breathing. The way she leaned into her partner, pressing herself subtly against him, left little doubt about their relationship.
The two moved like a power couple—magnetic and impossible to ignore.
Finally, at the back of the group, was a girl with glasses.
Compared to the others, she was neither strikingly sexy nor intimidatingly elegant. Yet she possessed a charm of her own.
There was a quiet cuteness about her, a unique appeal that was hard to define. She didn't try to stand out, yet somehow, she did—not with sultry confidence, but with an understated authenticity.
Silas and Mila greeted them with nothing short of absolute politeness.
The moment the VIPs entered, the club's energy subtly shifted—staff moved more attentively, the tension of ensuring perfection hanging in the air.
These were not ordinary guests; they were individuals of power, wealth, and influence.
Mila was already wearing her brightest, most charming smile as she gracefully stepped forward alongside Silas.
"It's a pleasure to have you all here tonight," Silas greeted smoothly, his voice warm yet filled with the careful weight of respect. "We've been expecting you."
Mila's smile remained effortlessly radiant, but beneath it, her mind was already assessing the VIPs with keen precision.
Confidence. Influence. Power.
It was evident in the way they carried themselves—the poised tilt of their chins, the effortless grace in their movements. She had met plenty of high-profile guests before, yet there was something undeniably captivating about this group.
'Stay sharp, Mila. Make them feel welcome, make them feel important.'
Her gaze flickered to the leading woman of the group—a vision of elegance in a sleek evening gown, her posture exuding effortless command.
Mila stepped forward smoothly, offering a delicate but firm handshake.
"Welcome," She said, her voice honeyed yet professional. "We're honored to have you here tonight. I hope the evening meets all your expectations."
The redhead with the mischievous eyes, smirked as she took Mila's hand. "Oh, I have no doubt it will."
Mila chuckled lightly, reading between the lines. Some of them were here for business, others for pleasure.
She turned to the young woman beside Selene, who had been subtly observing her with quiet intrigue.
"I adore your dress," Mila complimented, genuine warmth in her tone. "It's absolutely stunning on you."
The woman's lips curved into a pleased smile. "You have excellent taste."
Mila only smiled wider. That's the goal.
Rowan, still stationed at the bar, observed the interaction quietly.
His fingers idly turned a cocktail shaker in his grip, his mind only half on the drinks he was making.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Mila and Silas led the VIPs toward the exclusive lounge, their voices measured and respectful.
Tonight was an important night.
And Rowan had a feeling it was only the beginning of something much, much bigger.
----
The VIP lounge was a world apart from the rest of Eden's Edge.
Nestled on the upper floor, it was an exclusive space meant only for the most elite patrons. Rich velvet seating, dim golden lighting, and a private bar exuded sophistication and opulence.
The moment Silas led the group inside, a sense of quiet luxury wrapped around them, muffling the sounds of the bustling club below.
Silas, always the refined host, gestured toward the plush seating arranged for them.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable," He said with a charming smile. "If you need anything, Mila will be happy to assist you."
With that, he excused himself, leaving Mila to tend to the prestigious guests alone.
Mila, ever the professional, straightened her posture and smiled brightly.
"Good evening, everyone," She greeted, her voice warm. "My name is Mila, and I'll be at your service tonight. If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask."
At first, everything seemed normal.
Then, Selene sat up straight, her steel-blue eyes sharp with calculation. She wasn't just here to enjoy the club—she was here to assess it. Her expression was unreadable, but the intensity in her gaze sent an odd shiver down Mila's spine.
"I'll be evaluating the club tonight," Selene announced smoothly, crossing her legs with effortless grace. "Since we're considering an investment, it's only fair to assess every aspect thoroughly."
Mila's smile faltered ever so slightly since she had not been expecting this. Still, she nodded politely. "Of course."
Selene wasted no time.
Her first category—atmosphere.
She observed the lighting, the placement of furniture, the acoustics, the scent of the lounge, and even the color coordination.
Her brows furrowed slightly as she muttered softly.
"6.5/10!"
Next, service.
She watched how Mila stood, how she spoke, how quickly she responded to their minor requests.
"7.0/10!"
Then, decorations.
She scanned the paintings, the flower arrangements, and the design of the bar counter.
"5.8/10!"
Mila was growing increasingly uncomfortable.
Selene's scrutiny was intense. It felt as though she was being dissected under a microscope, her every move analyzed and rated.
Then came the worst part—Selene turned her focus directly on Mila.
Appearance. Poise. Speech. Charm.
Selene's eyes flicked over Mila's dress, her hair, her expression, her posture.
Then, she spoke again, tone as sharp as the tip of her pen.
"Mila, turn around for a moment," Selene requested, voice casual yet authoritative.
Mila hesitated, but she complied, turning in place.
Selene tapped her finger on her arm and muttered.
"Looks: 7.3/10! Manners: 6.9/10! Overall service: 6.1/10!"
Mila bit the inside of her cheek.
She wasn't used to feeling this… evaluated.
Before Selene could continue, however, a smooth male voice cut through the tension.
"That's enough, Selene."
Samir, the charming young man with the playboy aura, was watching with an easy-going smile. But there was an unmistakable firmness behind his words.
"You're making Mila uncomfortable," He pointed out.
Selene blinked, tilting her head slightly as though only now noticing. "Am I?"
"Yes," Another voice chimed in. It was the young woman who was beside Selene earlier.
Her name was Loraine and she was her elder sister. Watching Selene behaving so rudely, Loraine could not help but sigh, exasperated.
"Honestly, Selene," Loraine said, shaking her head. "You always do this. Just because you have a sharp eye doesn't mean you have to use it like a weapon."
Selene pursed her lips but didn't argue.
"I'm only being thorough," She murmured, leaning back in her seat.
Mila let out a quiet breath of relief.
Just at this moment, the doors to the VIP lounge opened and Rowan entered the room.