"It seems the powerful tycoon, Anton Trillo, has become quite captivated by the youngest son of Emperor Alaric Kromwel."
The voice that echoed through the chamber was deep, clear, and commanding—smooth as polished steel, yet carrying an authority that instinctively made people fall silent.
Every head turned.
Ares Zuvel strode toward them with calm, unhurried confidence, each step measured against the ancient stone floor. The sharp rhythm of leather striking rock reverberated through the tomb like ceremonial drumbeats heralding the arrival of royalty.
For a fleeting moment, Lara's gaze dropped to his shoes.
Then slowly, her eyes traveled upward.
Past the immaculate black slacks.
Past the dark tailored coat draped perfectly over a pristine white polo.
Past the deep crimson tie accentuated with a silver tie clip that gleamed beneath the torchlight like a blade.
Power.
Everything about his ensemble screamed power.
Lara blinked in surprise.
Why is he dressed like this today?
