?<strong>Chapter 484:</strong>
“At Norris Group? Is that really all I am in your eyes?” Kristopher’s words flowed smoothly, his tone yful yetced with a touch of mock hurt. They had performed this routine so many times it was second nature by now. Kristopher delivered his lines with such natural charm that no one could doubt his sincerity. The tenderness in his voice carried the unmistakable air of a man utterly besotted.
Carrie gave a small, knowing smile, her eyes sliding toward Ailyn like a de. “I never said that. She just came up with it on her own.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as a collective shiver ran through the crowd. Before Carrie’s arrival, plenty of people had cozied up to Ailyn by taking cheap shots at Carrie. Now, they were breaking out in cold sweats, mentally retracing their steps to see if they’d crossed any lines. Once they convinced themselves they hadn’t gone too far, they sighed in relief, emboldened enough to inch closer to Kristopher, who had suddenly be the center of their universe.
Ailyn, on the other hand, looked as though she’d been pped across the face. She stumbled back into a chair, her humiliation painted vividly across her features. But no one paid her any mind. The rest of the group was too busy trying to figure out how to worm their way into Kristopher’s good graces.
The ss president, quick to seize the moment, grabbed the most expensive champagne bottle on the table—a vintage priced at over two thousand on the market but marked up to five thousand here at the hotel. Not so long ago, everyone had oohed and aahed over it, but now, in Kristopher’s presence, it might as well have been sparkling water.
A ssmate whose family ran a factory called over the waiter with a flourish. “Bring us a bottle of ’82 Lafite!” Kristopher barely spared him a nce. His voice was calm, almostzy, as he addressed the waiter. “Just bring three bottles of my wine.” His eyes, however, never left Carrie, as if no one else in the room was worth a fraction of his attention.
The factory heir quickly jumped in, nodding so eagerly it was a wonder his head stayed attached. “Yes, yes! Do as Mr. Norris says!”
The waiter, unimpressed by the man’s theatrics, nodded politely before heading off. When he returned, the three bottles he brought immediately stole the show. A man in the wine business leaned in to get a closer look and whistled low under his breath. “These bottles… they’re each worth around a million dors. Absolutely staggering.”
Hearing this, the women in the group quickly abandoned their wistful nces at Kristopher, redirecting their envy toward Carrie. In a sh, they had their phones out, snapping pictures of the rare wines as though capturing a mythical beast. Even if Kristopher was out of their league, this was their golden ticket to social media glory—proof they had brushed shoulders with luxury. Who knew? Maybe the photos would catch the eye of a wealthy suitor.
The men, meanwhile, weren’t far behind, though their motivations were less about unting and more about leveraging connections. The ss president, ever the opportunist, poured two sses from one of the million-dor bottles and approached Kristopher with the air of someone about to meet royalty. “Mr. Norris, it’s an absolute honor to finally meet you. Thanks to our ss beauty here, I get the chance to toast with you. Would you do me the honor of epting this ss?”
Kristopher’s gaze shifted from the offered ss to Carrie. “Sweetheart,” he asked softly, “may I have a drink?”
The room once again plunged into stunned silence. Even Albin, usually soposed, straightened in his seat. The cigarette dangling between his fingers burned down to ash, utterly forgotten. He couldn’t wrap his head around what he was seeing—Kristopher, the man he had admired as something akin to a deity, now acting like a doting, attentive husband? It was as if the heavens themselves had flipped upside down.
Camille cast a pointed nce at Ailyn, whose face had grown stiffer with each passing moment. Then she leaned toward Carrie, nudging her with a sly grin. “Mrs. Norris, don’t just sit there all quiet! Look at our poor ss rep—he’s been holding that ss up for so long that I think his arm’s about to fall off! If you don’t give your blessing, I doubt Mr. Norris will even think of epting his toast.”
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