Cynthia POV.
“Brad is drenched without touching a drink. And we are drunk without taking a sip.”
Sinacore whispered those words in my ears as I melted in his warm embrace while being highly conscious of the mistake that I had committed a while ago. I had inadvertently opened the mind link while responding to his oral query.
And I got caught.
The hotel ballroom was a canvas painted with the opulence deserving of a tennis superstar. Each guest was adorned in finery that reflected the flickering chandeliers overhead. As Sinacore and I snuck out quietly to return to our room, the atmosphere pulsed with the opulence of the occasion.
The chatter of voices and laughter melded with the rich orchestration of a live band, setting a backdrop of festive elegance. Brad, ever the perfect host, introduced me to everyone, guiding me through a sea of his acquaintances.