The suite doors opened.
He entered.
Damiano Vihaan Moretti was impossible to miss.
Tall enough that everyone seemed smaller around him.
Perfectly tailored black suit.
Sharp features.
Controlled movements.
The kind of presence that made rooms quieter.
He looked exactly like every intimidating magazine cover had promised.
His assistant whispered something to him.
His attention shifted toward the waiting area.
Toward Alankrita.
He stopped for half a second.
Not long enough for anyone else to notice.
Long enough for him to notice.
This wasn't what he expected.
He expected a London journalist in formal western business clothing.
Someone aggressive.
Fast talking.
Sharp-edged.
Instead,
she looked calm.
Traditional.
Almost impossibly gentle compared to the world surrounding him.
Notebook in her lap.
Large, thoughtful eyes.
Neatly braided hair.
The atmosphere around her felt strangely quiet.
Like finding a lamp burning steadily during a storm.
Interesting.
Unexpected.