Vergil handed the keys to the gold Lamborghini to the hotel driver with a simple gesture. The young man swallowed hard as he approached the car, as if entrusted with guarding a cursed treasure.
"Don't scratch it," Vergil said with a half-smile, his gaze cold and lazy.
"Y-yes, sir!" the young man replied, nearly tripping over his own tongue as he started the engine.
The hotel lobby was a spectacle in itself. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls, and the white marble reflected the golden light from strategically placed lampshades. Everyone in the room paused for a moment to watch the trio walk through the main doors.
Vergil.
To his right, Alexa, wearing a tight black dress that accentuated every wild curve of her body. Her wolfish gaze sparked with mischief, and her every step seemed like a promise of chaos.
