The wedding gown

The designer backtracked in a flurry of nervous laughter. "Flirting? I dare not!" He held up his hands in defeat. "But what can I say? She looks so… gorgeous, even my cynical heart can't help but quicken its beat."

Silas's possessiveness threatened to boil over. "If you weren't my old friend, Haris," he growled, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice, "I would rip your tongue out for that."

"Silas!" Esme, sensing the impending storm, intervened before things escalated. She stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Silas's chest.

"Don't worry, Esme. We talk almost like this every time we meet," Haris scoffed. "He understands that my heart will never warm up again."

With that parting shot, he swept out, his assistant following him.