The Wine Tasting Room.
It was located at the end of a long corridor in the ship's cabin area.
Unlike the open-plan lounge, the tasting room was soundproof and exceptionally private.
It both protected the privacy of distinguished guests and allowed them to enjoy the pleasure of wine tasting in a quiet and elegant environment.
In the tasting room Stella Sterling found herself in, wine racks lined three of the walls.
The tasting counter was set with bartending tools and a matching set of crystal martini glasses.
Stella had mixed a few "Whose Goose" cocktails for herself, but they all seemed to be missing something.
She looked around but couldn't find a call bell for the steward.
Disappointed, Stella got up, planning to find a server in the corridor to order a few of Alan's specialty cocktails.
The moment she opened the door, a startled question made Stella freeze on the spot.
"Miss, what are you doing in here?"
In the corridor, four senior cabin stewards standing in a line turned to look at Stella, their faces aghast.
The steward who had spoken first urged her, "Miss, this is a private tasting room. It's not open to the public. Please leave immediately."
Stella's Cantonese wasn't great. She could understand it, but she couldn't speak it fluently.
Seeing the senior stewards looking as if they were facing a major crisis, Stella paused, then nodded and said, "Sorry."
The situation was nothing short of awkward.
She truly hadn't known it was a private room.
No one had stopped her on her way in, either.
But, as luck would have it...
Just as Stella pressed her lips together, ready to leave, and the stewards were bustling about, preparing to clean the room again, a figure slowly appeared from the other end of the corridor.
Upon seeing the newcomer, the four stewards froze, their faces filled with panic.
Surprised, Stella lifted her gaze to follow theirs—
At the far end of the corridor, which was adorned with magnificent French chandeliers, a tall, imposing man in an expensive, ink-black suit was walking toward them, backlit against the plush carpet.
Perhaps the light from the chandeliers and wall sconces was too intense, obscuring the contours of his features and his silhouette.
It wasn't until he drew closer that the handsome lines of his face became distinct.
Beneath a strong, full brow, his facial structure was sharp and defined. His narrow, black eyes, catching a faint glimmer of soft light, held a dignified and cold detachment.
He just stood there in the interplay of light and shadow, emanating an aura that was at once restrained and untamable. Yet, on closer inspection, one could also perceive a gentleman's refined grace.
The two completely different impressions were contradictory, yet they blended together in a surprisingly harmonious way.
Stella couldn't help but stare for a few extra moments, only snapping back to reality when the stewards spoke in unison.
"Mr. Rhodes."
The address "Mr. Rhodes" was uttered with tense respect.
Judging by the stewards' attitudes, this man was likely of high status and significant background.
Leaving now would look suspiciously like shirking responsibility after causing trouble.
Stella remained rooted to the spot, trying to figure out what to do.
Meanwhile, the steward stepped forward, trembling with fear, and began to explain, even stumbling over his words in his nervousness.
Stella understood the gist of it.
He was implying that she had entered the tasting room without permission, thereby disturbing Mr. Rhodes.
Which wasn't wrong.
Stella played along, admitting her blunder in her clumsy Cantonese. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rhodes. I didn't see any signs prohibiting entry. I apologize for taking the liberty of using the tasting room. I'll pay for all the drinks and equipment I used."
Mr. Rhodes slowly turned his head, his deep, dark gaze sweeping briefly across the interior of the tasting room.
He nonchalantly uttered two words in Mandarin: "It's fine."
The man's voice was low and magnetic. The sound that flowed from his lips was naturally rich and smooth, more intoxicating than the aroma of wine lingering in the air.
Stella inexplicably let out a sigh of relief, but she was also surprised by the man's sharp observation.
'Could it be that my Cantonese is really that bad?'
Stella turned to leave, but then a thought occurred to her. She stopped and asked, "Mr. Rhodes, who should I speak with about paying for the drinks?"
"All who come are guests; there's no need to pay." The man unhurriedly raised his forearm. "Escort this young lady back."
The motion of his raised hand allowed Stella to catch sight of a black and gold pinky ring on his left hand.
She couldn't make out the pattern, but the colors were certainly distinctive.
The senior steward responded at once and began to guide Stella. "This way, Miss."
Stella apologized to the man once more, then followed the steward back the way she came.
Along the way, as she passed through the connecting corridor of the tasting area, someone walked toward her.
The person was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, with a suit jacket slung casually over his right shoulder.
As the man passed Stella, his gaze, filled with amusement, lingered on her face for several seconds.
Stella was used to being looked at like that and didn't pay it any mind.
She only had a vague feeling that he looked familiar, but she couldn't immediately recall where she might have seen him before.
Stella shook her head, musing to herself how absurd her evening had been.
That Mr. Rhodes had said, "All who come are guests." 'Maybe he's the host of tonight's reception,' Stella thought.
...
As Stella's figure disappeared around the corner of the corridor, Connor Linden, the princeling of Port Vesper's Linden Family, happened to walk up to the tasting room.
Seeing the man standing in the corridor smoking, Connor Linden asked suspiciously, "Why aren't you going in?"
Roman Rhodes lifted his eyelids slightly and tipped his chin toward the tasting room.
Connor glanced inside and was instantly annoyed. "Someone was here?"
The cruise ship had three private tasting rooms, but this one was never used to entertain outside guests.
Connor spotted four or five used martini glasses on the bar and turned to the steward with a grim expression.
The steward, looking uneasy, stammered out an explanation of what had happened.
After hearing the story, Connor laughed. "She opened three bottles of wine by herself, and she picked the expensive ones?"
His tone wasn't angry; instead, it held a hint of mockery.
Roman Rhodes's hand, holding the cigarette, paused by his lips. A restrained glint appeared in his eyes. "You know her?"
Connor said, "A mainland girl. She often comes to Port Vesper to hang out in bars with the Jarvis Family's wastrel. I've seen her a few times. The wastrel's old man is Eugene Jarvis. He made his fortune in Port Vesper real estate back in the day. Worked his whole life, but both his sons are a disappointment—one's a gambler, the other's a lecher."
Roman Rhodes listened with a calm expression, not responding.
A short while later, the steward had cleaned the tasting room again, replaced the tablecloth, cleared away the glasses, and turned on the climate control to bring the room to the precise, optimal temperature.
Connor was still giving Roman Rhodes the rundown on the Jarvis Family's business.
When he didn't get a response for a while, he turned and saw that Roman's gaze had landed with keen interest on the tray the steward was carrying.
Connor didn't understand. He stared at it for a few moments.
He couldn't see anything special.
Connor asked what he was looking at, but Roman just smirked and said nothing.
'He recalled the girl he had just seen. She was wearing a black off-the-shoulder dress with her hair in a low, Chinese-style ponytail, and she had a rather serene disposition. You really couldn't tell she was the type to down her drinks in one go.'
Because on the rim of each martini glass, there was only a single, faint lipstick print.
She had clearly drained each glass in one go.
A way of drinking that wasn't tasting so much as bingeing.
...
At 10:30 PM, the cruise ship sailed into Sovereign Harbor and docked.
A cool, damp, salty sea breeze washed over them, seemingly enough to blow away the light buzz from the alcohol.
Stella Sterling disembarked with Ian Jarvis.
The guy was still chattering away even after they got into Mr. Coleman's car.
"You seriously don't know who Roman Rhodes is? That guy... even my old man would have to call him Mr. Rhodes."
Stella stared out the window, not bothering to speak.
Originally, she hadn't connected the Mr. Rhodes she'd met in the tasting room with the eldest son of Port Vesper's Rhodes Family.
The eldest son of the Rhodes Family was rumored to have another identity: the boss of Vesper Central.
Stella had seen plenty of Hong Kong and Taiwanese films.
According to movie conventions, a boss was usually powerful, influential, and close to fifty years old...
Who would have thought Roman Rhodes was only twenty-nine?
It was true: the culture of Port Vesper and the mainland were worlds apart.