As Damien adjusted the sleeve of his matte-black jacket, stepping into the light like a blade unsheathed, the promenade shifted.
It was subtle. A moment of breath held too long. A pause in someone's step that didn't quite register. The ripple effect of attraction, confusion, recognition—and hesitation.
Two younger socialites in pastel coats stopped mid-stride at the edge of a neighboring storefront.
"Wait—who…?"
"Is he an actor?"
"No, I—I think that's Damien Elford. The Elford heir."
"What? Him?"
"He doesn't look like the photos."
"Exactly."
A trio of older businessmen seated under a shade-ward for a rooftop café turned their heads, eyes narrowing, one murmuring low, "Is that Dominic's boy? Didn't think he had that in him."
A pause.
Then a second voice: "He's going to be trouble."
