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Vivienne Ambrose won the preliminary round, crushing all the competitors, including Quinn Yates, which naturally put her in a fantastic mood.
What made it even better was that Dante Hayes was waiting for her.
She walked over to him with a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Dante, what did you think of my work today? I poured my heart into this design for the competition."
"Thankfully, it paid off! The studio's hard work didn't go to waste."
Dante offered a nonchalant nod. "You are indeed excellent."
Earning his praise made Vivienne's heart soar, and she looked up at him expectantly.
"To celebrate taking first place today, I'm taking the studio team out for dinner tonight. You should come! Leon will be joining us too."
Dante pressed his lips into a thin line, remaining silent.
Vivienne noticed his distraction; his gaze kept drifting over her head toward something else.
Following his line of sight, she saw Quinn standing a short distance away, packing up her things backstage.
She was standing right in front of him, yet he was staring at another woman. A flare of jealousy burned in Vivienne's chest.
But she masked it perfectly, playing the part of the generous, understanding friend. "Quinn is amazing too. Advancing after everything that happened is no small feat."
"Still, she only managed fifth place. She must be feeling pretty down."
Vivienne carefully gauged his reaction. "Dante, why don't we go over and comfort her?"
Quinn remained focused on packing. Her elegant dress showcased her stunning curves, and with her dark hair pinned up, her profile looked breathtakingly beautiful yet utterly aloof.
They had briefly locked eyes just moments ago, but now she was treating him like he was completely invisible, refusing to spare him a single glance.
Dante's gaze turned somber, his sharp features freezing over. "Someone as proud as her doesn't need my comfort."
"What about the celebration dinner?..."
"We'll see," Dante replied coldly. "I'll go if my schedule is clear."
With that, he turned and headed for the exit.
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