Chloe whipped her head around, her eyes still glued to the man's tall, commanding figure. Wherever he went, it was like a storm cloud followed, his powerful and icy presence intimidating everyone in his path. People watched him with a mix of respect, admiration, and even fear. He had that kind of bone-chilling aura.
It couldn’t be him.
Her "Trophy Boy" was nothing like this. He was as hot as a midsummer sun, wild, reckless, and a bit of a rogue. Every time they met, he was the one initiating the flirtation, playing hard to get when she got close and going all out to win her over when she seemed ready to walk away. He had mastered the art of pleasure like a pro.
Chloe often poked his chest, scolding him, "You're like an incubus, you know?"
He'd always cheekily pinch her chin and say, "Then, are you my succubus?"
How could her libertine be the otherworldly King of Eldridge standing before her? Chloe convinced herself it couldn't be. But a nagging unease wouldn't leave her alone.
As the gift-giving segment wound down, guests began to take their seats. Chloe was already seated. Her gaze swept the room but found no trace of Connor. She sat quietly, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her contacts until she landed on "Trophy Boy."
She stared blankly at the number, feeling a strange sensation like she was being watched. Suddenly, she looked up and locked eyes with a cold gaze from the second floor of the banquet hall.
It was him!
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