the opulence of the room was almost suffocating, with crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling like glittering stalactites, their light refracting into a million tiny rainbows that jazzed across the polished marble floor. inhaling was excruciating on its own: the air had mingling scents of expensive perfumes, fine cigars, and the faint, almost imperceptible hint of wealth ⸻ a scent ryker had come to recognize with a mixture of disdain and resignation. he stood near the edge of the grand ballroom, his muscular frame encased in a sleek, form-fitting suit that clung to him like a second skin. the suit was tailored to perfection, highlighting the contours of his biceps, the sinewy strength of his shoulders, and the lean lines of his torso. the fabric stretched just enough to hint at the power beneath without sacrificing the elegance demanded by such an elite gathering.
&. rivals ( to lovers? ) sentence starters
❛ you look ridiculous in that outfit, by the way. ❜ ( @goddessrisen )
despite the impeccable tailoring, he still felt out of place, a wolf amongst a flock of preening, oblivious peacocks. his spheres, sharp and discerning, scanned the room with practised ease: he was on duty, a cop amidst the upper crust, ensuring that the veneer of civility did not crack to reveal something more sinister. and it was in that moment of observation that he was approached by her. ❝ is that how you greet everyone? ❞ he asked, his tone light but edged with irony. ❝ because i have to say, you're not quite making the best impression. ❞
