The sound of a man’s frantic, heavy heartbeat thrummed against Remi’s ear, stirring a sweet, intoxicating warmth in her chest.

The silence between them grew heavy, saturated with the scent of alcohol and the jagged rhythm of their breathing. Damian felt the pulse in his throat hitch, his mouth suddenly dry, fighting the urge to cross the line.

Sensing he was spiraling, Remi pushed him back, her voice breathless and flushed. "Let's go outside. It’s too stifling in here."

"Right."

They strolled along the sidewalk. The autumn night air was crisp, almost biting, and Remi shivered, pulling her jacket tighter. Damian caught the movement instantly. He peeled off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

They walked in silence, yet the air between them hummed with a quiet, lingering sweetness.

"Stay here a second, Remi," he said, then bolted toward the storefront across the street.

Remi stood on the curb, her heart racing with anticipation. She knew exactly what he was after.

Sure enough, a moment later, he emerged, his arms cradling a massive, crimson bouquet of long-stemmed roses. He strode toward her, the streetlights catching his silhouette, making him look like something out of a classic romance novel.

"Remi," he said, halting in front of her. "I heard that every good love story starts with a bouquet. Would you... would you be my girlfriend?"

Remi could hear her own heart hammering against her ribs—the unmistakable rhythm of falling in love. She had never been one for playing games; if you love someone, you show it.

"I would love to!"

She buried her face in the roses; he pulled her into an embrace. Under the amber glow of the streetlamp, their shadows stretched long and fused together, perfect as a frame in a film.

Back at the studio, Evangeline looked up to see Remi walking in, clutching the flowers and blushing like a schoolgirl. "Remi! You two didn't waste any time, did you?"

"That blockhead finally had a moment of clarity and asked me out."

Evangeline leaned in, eyes sparkling with gossip. "Don't hold out on me! Give me every detail!"

Remi set the flowers down and launched into the full story. Evangeline listened, feeling a vicarious flutter in her chest. There was something undeniably fun about watching someone else fall in love.

"Haha! That's incredible! You've finally graduated from the singles' club."

That night, the two of them stayed up late, curled under the covers, whispering until the early hours of the morning.

The next day, Evangeline sent off her sketches and began the grueling process of turning them into finished garments. The rules were strict: designs submitted within three days, runway show on the tenth. The clock was ticking.

"Remi, will you walk for me?"

"Me? Are you sure I can pull it off?"

"Absolutely."

Remi had an ethereal, classic beauty—like a fresh lily. With her graceful build and refined temperament, she was the perfect fit for the "innocent, otherworldly mermaid" concept Evangeline had envisioned.

"Alright! If you think I’m the one for it, then I’m in!"

"Perfect. If we sweep this competition, that commercial building we’ve been eyeing finally becomes a reality!"

Dreams were a powerful fuel. But of course, building a future required a lot of blood, sweat, and tears in the present.

The studio became a whirlwind of frantic, focused energy.

Soon, the day of the show arrived. The competition was staged in the Grand Ballroom of The Grand Meridian, a massive space spanning over 10,000 square feet, capable of holding nearly 800 guests. The entire event was being livestreamed to ensure absolute transparency.

Evangeline led her team to the assigned dressing room to begin final preparations. It was noon, with three hours left before the show.

The makeup artist began prepping Remi’s skin to ensure the look stayed flawless under the harsh stage lights. Fifteen minutes later, she began the base makeup. Remi already had a perfect complexion, but for a stage look, they needed to amp up the glow until her skin looked like porcelain.

They tried blue contact lenses, but they ended up dulling the natural sparkle in her eyes.

The makeup artist sighed, "Miss Crawford, your eyes are stunning. It’s like they have an entire ocean trapped inside them."

Evangeline smiled. "That’s exactly why she’s my mermaid."

Remi and Evangeline exchanged a knowing smile.

Two hours later, the look was complete. To avoid distracting from her eyes, the artist moved the pearlescent glitter usually reserved for the lids to the temples, creating an unexpectedly wild, celestial effect. Finally, they styled her hair into soft, water-like waves and placed the crown—a masterpiece they’d spent three days crafting from seashells, hand-painted accents, and pearls, with a single teardrop pearl dangling at her brow.

"Remi, you look breathtaking!" Evangeline grabbed her phone and started snapping photos from every angle.

Even Remi, seeing herself in the mirror for the first time, couldn't help but pose, preening with a grin. "Wow... I really am that beautiful, aren't I?"

"Oh, you definitely are."

A man’s voice came from the doorway, making Remi jump.

"How did you get back here?"

Marcellus walked in, eyes fixed on Evangeline. "If I didn't come, how would I witness such a beautiful little mermaid princess?"

Remi blushed, shooting a look at him. "You’ve got a silver tongue, I’ll give you that."

"Evangeline."

"Oh? You're here too?"

Marcellus draped an arm over her shoulder, smiling. "I wouldn't miss a defining moment in your life for anything."

The makeup artist and assistants, already intimidated by the two powerful men, now found themselves being fed a heavy dose of public affection.

"It starts in thirty minutes. You two should head out and find your seats before they fill up," Evangeline nudged them.

"No need. We have our spots."

Seeing Evangeline’s confusion, Damian chimed in, "Your Marcellus is one of the lead investors for this event."

"Wait, you aren't going to pull strings to fix the results, are you?"

Marcellus looked at her, his expression deadly serious. "I won't have to. Because I already know you're going to win."

"Wow..." Remi watched them with undisguised envy.

"Do you like a guy who talks sweet?" Marcellus teased.

"Who doesn't?!"

Damian bit his lip, looking at Marcellus. *What do I do? I'm not good with words.*

Marcellus laughed. "Damian, take notes, man."

"Whatever."

The muffled sounds of the event organizers preparing the ballroom drifted in. Evangeline shooed them out.

"Go on, get out of here."

They walked into the ballroom, where the event organizer spotted them and sprinted over, oily and eager. "Mr. Alexander! Please, follow me."

They were led to the front-row VIP seats. Their commanding presence immediately drew the eyes of half the room. One woman in particular stared with undisguised hunger.

She smoothed her dress, swaying her hips as she approached Marcellus. "Hello, sir. I’m one of the designers in the competition. Are you in the fashion business, too?"

The suffocating scent of her cheap perfume hit Marcellus like a physical blow. He didn't even look at her, his voice dropping into a lethal, icy growl: "Get lost."

The woman froze, looking at him in disbelief. She was used to being the prettiest girl in the room; she’d never failed to get a man's attention. But the pure, visceral disgust in his eyes made her want to crawl into a hole.

She stood there, stunned, and he roared, "Are you deaf? I said get lost!"

The commotion was loud enough to turn heads. People began whispering and pointing. Humiliated and furious, she finally scurried away.

"Marcellus, does Evangeline know you’re such a magnet for pests?" Damian asked, wearing a mocking grin.

Marcellus gestured to the crowd around them. "And you think you’re any better?"

Tch. These people. Their desperate, hungry gazes were just plain gross.