The morning after the cocktail mixer, the heavy scent of crushed ice, stale champagne, and blooming orchids still hung over the estate’s grand parlor.
David was at the mahogany table in the temporary media tent set up on the lawn, hunched over a laptop as Liam, the photographer, loaded high-resolution press files onto a hard drive. Javed was standing near the entrance, holding a mug of coffee he hadn't touched, his throat still raw from the quiet, furious passion he and Martin had shared against the office desk hours prior.
"Alright, most of the lighting tests are clean," Liam said, clicking through the gallery thumbnail grid. "Except for a few random test shots I took in the service corridors."
David leaned over Liam’s shoulder, sipping his coffee. "Any usable candid shots of the VIPs?
