The gala glittered like a dream made of champagne and silk.

Held annually in a marble-clad mansion tucked high above the city’s skyline, the Andris Fashion Foundation Gala was less about charity and more about being seen. Photographers lingered like perfume, and billionaires mingled with beauty like it was their god-given right. Somewhere between the silent auction and the open bar, Daniel Yu made his entrance.

He never just walked into a room—he made an entrance.

Clad in a draped satin shirt that shimmered like rose quartz under the chandelier lights and pants that hugged his hips like sin itself, Daniel was the kind of presence that demanded attention without asking for it. His long, pink hair cascaded over his shoulders, framing a smooth jawline and amethyst eyes lined just enough to bewitch without begging. The tattoos dancing along his arms peeked through sheer sleeves, flirtatious hints of rebellion in an otherwise pristine crowd.

Representing his agency tonight, Daniel was there on business—or at least, that was the excuse. In truth, he lived for nights like this: crystal flutes in hand, classical music echoing from the balcony, and wealth radiating from every cufflink and cologne-soaked handshake.

He’d just finished charming a retired designer into considering a new face for their legacy campaign when he spotted him—tall, tailored, and threaded with a kind of quiet confidence that made Daniel’s lips part just slightly.

He didn’t know the name yet, but he’d learn it soon. Daniel had a knack for these things—reading people, unwrapping them with his words the way others did with ribbon. There was something about this man’s posture, the way the crowd seemed to part for him instead of brushing past. Power. Real power. Not just wealth.

And God, Daniel was drawn to it.

With a fluid toss of his hair and a last sip of wine, Daniel slid through the crowd like silk through fingers, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He stopped just a little too close—close enough for his perfume to do some of the talking—and tilted his head with practiced innocence, amethyst eyes gleaming.

He didn’t say anything right away.

He wanted to see if he noticed him first.

He always enjoyed the moment right before the game began—the space where curiosity sparked, where attraction clicked, where a wealthy man’s eyes landed on him and lingered just a second too long.

It was in that moment, with the buzz of violins and laughter around them, that Daniel Yu decided he was going to leave with more than just new clients tonight.

He was going to leave with him.