The networking dinner was held in an opulent ballroom, its vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate chandeliers casting a warm golden glow over the space. The air carried the soft hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional chime of fine glassware.

  Rather than a formal seated arrangement, the event was designed for fluid interaction—elegant cocktail tables draped in deep navy linen were scattered throughout the room, encouraging guests to gather in small groups.

  Plush lounge seating lined the walls for those who preferred more intimate discussions, but most attendees remained standing, drinks in hand, moving effortlessly from one conversation to the next.

  Waitstaff, dressed in crisp black and white, moved with quiet efficiency, offering trays of expertly crafted canapés—bite-sized delicacies of smoked salmon, truffle-infused cheese, and delicate pastry shells filled with rich, savory creams.

  At the far end of the room, a sleek bar served fine wines, aged whisky, and champagne, though nothing too strong to distract from the evening’s true purpose: networking. The atmosphere was refined but not rigid, a carefully curated balance between exclusivity and approachability.

  Security was present but unobtrusive, their sharp eyes scanning the room without disrupting the flow of conversation. The guest list had been meticulously vetted, ensuring that every person in attendance had a reason to be there—whether they were policymakers, industry leaders, or renowned scientists.

  Among them, Adrian stood as an undeniable focal point, the young scientist whose presence had drawn both admiration and curiosity. Though the room was filled with some of the world’s most influential minds, tonight, all eyes seemed to find their way back to him.

  Adrian adjusted the cuffs of his suit, his usual composed demeanor effortlessly in place. Then, turning slightly to Mira, “Just enjoy the dinner. It’s nothing serious tonight—just people feeling each other out.”

  Mira nodded, already scanning the room. But before she could move, Adrian leaned in just a fraction, his voice carrying the familiar edge of amusement. “Oh, and Mira—just don’t touch any wine.”

  Her lips parted, a flicker of flustered embarrassment crossing her face before she quickly schooled her expression. That one incident, no, two. The sake and the steak sauce incident—were clearly never going to be forgotten.

  She loved wine, but her body didn’t. Even the smallest sip left her lightheaded, her tolerance practically nonexistent. She huffed. “I know, I know. Can’t be helped.”

  With that, they parted ways, Adrian naturally drifting toward the center of the room while Mira found a table in the quieter section. She settled in, selecting an assortment of food from the buffet, perfectly content with her meal. Unlike Adrian, no one had any interest in approaching her.

  He, on the other hand, barely had the chance to lift his fork.

  Before he could take a bite, someone had already stepped into his space—a broad-shouldered man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, a pocket square folded with calculated precision.

  Then came another—a woman, sharp-eyed, wearing a dark blue dress that screamed luxury but with the stiff professionalism of someone who didn’t consider it fashion, merely uniform.

  A diplomat, most likely. She gestured as she spoke, her expression controlled, but there was something searching in her eyes, as if assessing Adrian with every word.

  One by one, they came. A CEO, identifiable by the sleek, modern cut of his suit and the meticulously measured casualness of his smile. A government official, the national pin on his lapel giving him away before he even opened his mouth. An investor, his watch expensive but understated, his gaze flicking around the room even as he spoke—always calculating.

  Mira ate quietly, watching them with idle curiosity. Thirty minutes passed. Then forty. An hour. Adrian still hadn’t eaten a thing.

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  His expression remained controlled—calm, polite, the perfect diplomat. But Mira could see it.

  The way his jaw tensed ever so slightly between sentences.

  The way his fingers curled briefly against the fabric of his suit before relaxing again.

  The way his usual sharp gaze took on a hint of distance, as if he was mentally somewhere else, holding back his irritation with effortless precision.

  And then there was the slightest shift in his posture—still poised, but subtly withdrawn, as if he’d already lost interest in the conversation but remained out of sheer obligation.

  Mira didn’t need to hear the words to know. Whoever he was speaking to, he didn’t like the conversation.

  And before she even knew what she was doing, she was already on her feet, slipping into place beside him.

  “Excuse me for the interruption,” she said, offering a practiced smile. “There’s an urgent issue that requires Mr. Vale’s immediate decision. May I have a moment with him?”

  Mira maintained her composed smile, as the CEO turned his attention to her.

  “Mira Larkspur,” she introduced herself smoothly. “Assistant to Mr. Vale.”

  The CEO blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden interruption. His gaze flickered to Adrian, then back to Mira, assessing. There was a brief pause—then, with a tight smile, he inclined his head.

  “Of course, Miss Larkspur.” His voice carried the kind of politeness that masked mild irritation, but he didn’t push back. “We’ll continue this discussion later, Mr. Vale.”

  With that, he stepped away, blending back into the crowd.

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Adrian let out a short breath, his shoulders loosening slightly. Then, turning to Mira.

  “So, what’s the urgent issue, Assistant Larkspur?”

  Mira didn’t even hesitate. “That conversation was annoying, and your stomach needs food.”

  For a second, Adrian just stared at her. Then, with a half-choked laugh, he raised a hand to cover his forehead, shaking his head.

  “Seriously,” he said, struggling to keep his laughter contained. “You sure are a capable assistant.”

  Mira ignored his teasing entirely, already motioning toward his untouched plate. “Now, your schedule for the rest of the night is fully occupied—by your assistant.”

  Adrian leaned back slightly, twirling his fork between his fingers, his smirk deepening. “The rest of the night, you say?”

  Mira froze for a fraction of a second before realizing how that phrase could be interpreted. Heat crept up her neck. “Don’t make it weird,” she shot back. “I meant for tonight’s dinner.”

  Adrian chuckled but wisely didn’t push further. He finally turned his attention to his plate, taking his first proper bite of the evening. Mira, having already finished her meal, simply sat across from him, watching him eat.

  Her thoughts drifted as she observed him—the way he carried himself, the way he seemed so at ease even when surrounded by people constantly demanding his attention. Was this his life? Always being the center of conversations, always navigating expectations? If not buried in his lab back at the university, then caught in events like these. It was something most students would envy, a dream come true. But… did he actually like it?

  Adrian caught her staring. Without pausing, he asked. “What’s in your mind, Mira? Is your new mission now observing me eat?”

  Mira blinked, realizing she’d been watching him too long. But she wasn’t about to back down so easily. With a smirk of her own, she leaned forward slightly. “You should be thanking me.”

  “Oh?”

  “If I weren’t here, you’d probably starve to death with the endless conversation.”

  Adrian shook his head with a helpless laugh as he continued eating. “I see. So not only are you my assistant, but also my savior now?”

  Mira only huffed, leaning back in her seat. “Just eat, Vale.”

  After a few more bites, Adrian finally set his utensils down, exhaling as he leaned back in his chair. He glanced at Mira, his expression softer now. “Tomorrow will be a long day,” he said. “You should rest early.”

  Mira stretched her arms slightly, letting out a small sigh. “You too.”

  Adrian smirked. “Unlike you, I didn’t get to eat in peace. I should file a complaint to my assistant.”

  The dining hall had wound down, with only a few clusters of people lingering over their last drinks. The once-busy atmosphere was settling into something calmer, more intimate, as conversations softened and the event drew to a close.

  They walked side by side down the dimly lit hallway leading to the guest rooms. The plush carpet muted their footsteps, and the soft glow of wall sconces cast elongated shadows along the corridor. The air was thick with the quiet aftertaste of the evening—conversations left unfinished, lingering thoughts unspoken.

  Mira walked with her hands casually in her pockets, peeping at Adrian. Despite the long day, he didn’t look tired—just thoughtful.

  They reached their rooms, which were right next to each other. Mira paused and glanced back at him before stepping inside. “Get some sleep, Vale. You’ll need it.”

  He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Goodnight, Mira.”

  And just like that, the night came to an end.