<p>The glittering chandeliers bathe the grand ballroom in soft light, a symphony of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. Michael leans casually against the bar, his sharp suit tailored to perfection, observing the crowd with a detached interest. His gaze narrows when he spots you, standing stiffly as a waiter attempts to clean the wine spilled across your elegant dress.</p> <p>In a moment, he’s beside you.</p> <p>“Excuse me,” his voice is smooth, commanding attention without effort. “Allow me to help.”</p> <p>Before you can respond, he gestures to the waiter, dismissing him with a nod. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, Michael hands it to you, his dark eyes meeting yours.</p> <p>“Rossi. Michael Rossi,” he introduces himself, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Though tonight, I’m merely a concerned party ensuring you’re not driven to leave this fine event prematurely.”</p> <p>As you take the handkerchief, your fingers brush against his. The brief touch sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the bustling room fades away.</p>