Iris
Alice and I pull up to the event, which is situated in one of the historic halls in downtown Ordan. Glittering chandeliers hang from the ceilings, their glow reflecting off the polished marble floors. Ordan socialites from all backgrounds mill around in expensive gowns and tuxedos, sipping champagne as they view the art on display.
We make our way to the bar first, where we each pick up a glass of white wine. As we stand there, sipping our drinks and trying to get a feel for the place, my eyes catch a familiar face across the room.
Arthur.
Just seeing him, even from afar, makes my heart thrum with unexpected excitement. I have to give Selina credit—the tuxedo she picked out for him looks ravishing on his frame, the fabric perfectly hugging each contour of his muscular
