The hotel lobby took one’s breath away. An immense crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, scattering thousands of fragments of light across the black-and-white marble floor with its intricate spiral pattern. Dark brown leather furniture, small mahogany tables, and old oil paintings of European landscapes created an atmosphere where time seemed to have stood still. A few people were engaged in quiet conversation in a corner. A man with a scar on his cheek was discussing a deal in Shanghai. A woman in a short red dress with platinum hair stirred her martini glass impatiently.
When Elina entered, everything stopped for a moment.
First came the golden hair, released from beneath the cloak and cascading like a waterfall of light over her bare shoulders—each strand as if woven with gold. Then her face: the delicate lines of her jaw, the small straight nose, the pale pink lips, and those deep blue eyes that even from a distance appeared sharp and focused, as if they could read a person’s soul. The cloak slipped gently from her shoulders, revealing the black silk dress—a simple but flawless cut that followed every line of her slender, athletic body. The vertical slits on the sleeves showed the smooth skin of her arms, and with every movement, light slid across the silk.
The man with the scarred face stopped mid-sentence. The platinum-haired woman set down her glass. Even the elderly waiter carrying a tray of drinks paused for a moment. A heavy silence fell over the space—not the silence of fear, but the silence of pure astonishment. Her beauty was breathtaking, but something in her stance, in the way she looked around (not like someone entering for the first time, but like someone assessing the territory), warned that this was not just beauty.
A tall man emerged from behind a marble column on the left.
He moved with an innate calm, as if the space belonged to him. Tall and well-built, in a tailored black suit that sat perfectly on his broad shoulders. His dark hair had a slight chestnut hue, styled with a calculated carelessness. His face bore deep lines—lines etched not by age, but by much thinking. But his eyes… his gray eyes were like morning mist, an ambiguous color that could turn cold in one moment and warm in the next.
When he saw Elina, a small smile appeared on his lips—a smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth.
“Welcome, Ms. Gold.” His voice was deep and calm, but in the silence of the lobby it rang out clear as a bell. “It is an honor to have you join us.”