Aria's POVThe moment I pushed open the heavy walnut door, my breath hitched in my throat.This so-called "lounge" was absurdly spacious, with a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the most breathtaking sunset over the city skyline.But the true shock lay at the center of the room—a temporary runway, sleek and dramatically lit, like a scene stolen straight from Paris Fashion Week.As soon as we sat down, I turned to Kane. "Kane, what is this—"My question was cut short by the sudden burst of music.From the far side of the room, a group of tall, blond models strutted toward us with effortless elegance, each carrying a new-season luxury handbag.Spotlights followed them with precision, capturing every pivot, every pose, every flash of leather and gold.It was surreal.A private fashion show. For two people.One of whom—me—was still wearing worn-out sneakers and a faded work outfit.I sat there, frozen, eyes wide, watching the entire presentation unfold like some ridiculous
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