Noreen barely nced at the two people, then led Scott on a brief walk around the convention hall.
Near the main stage, there was a bustling interview area packed with journalists from across the country. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement–a crowd had swarmed around someone giving an interview, though it wasn’t clear who the center of attention was.
Assuming it must be a major figure in the gaming industry, Noreen and Scott eagerly headed over, hoping to observe and learn–after all, that was one of their main goals for attending this conference.
But the sea of people was overwhelming. Before long, Scott and Noreen were separated by the jostling crowd.
Suddenly, someone identally caught Noreen’s foot. She lost her bnce, stumbling forward in an embarrassingly awkward sprawl.
Right in front of her loomed a sound equipment stand. There was no time to dodge–she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the inevitable pain.
But at thest second, a hand caught hers.
A powerful force tugged her upright, and an arm wrapped firmly around her waist. All around, startled gasps and exmations rippled through the crowd.
Before she could open her eyes, her face bumped into a solid chest.
A familiar, cool scent drifted over her–a deep, crisp woody note, tinged with the faintest trace of
tobo.
Stunned, Noreen looked up straight into Seth’s dark, inscrutable eyes.
His expression barely flickered, the only hint of emotion a signature chill in his gaze. He looked as if he’d just caught a total stranger on reflex.
Once she steadied herself, Noreen quickly pulled away, putting distance between them. The sharp, masculine scent faded as she stepped back.
“Thank you<i>,” </i>she said, because it was only right to do so–nothing more than a polite acknowledgment.
Seth’s reply was just as neutral. “You’re wee.” His tone was t, detached, as if he were a bystander with no stake in the moment.
After that fleeting encounter, they went their separate ways.
Noreen found Scott again, but barely had time to speak before a journalist’s voice rang out above the din.
“Mr. Harcourt! Mr. Lowell! Over here!” the reporter called excitedly. “I’m your biggest fan–I even covered that story about Mr. Harcourt spending twenty million at auction to buy jewelry for Mr. Lowell! I can’t believe I get to see you both in person today–what a stroke of luck!”
That gossip had been so widely discussed that even ire Chase, shooting on a closed set, had
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heard about it. As the reporter spoke, everyone nearby who recognized the story immediately turned and hurried over, eager for a closer look. <fn1f48> Fresh chapters posted on find(?)ovel</fn1f48>
Seth instinctively drew Bianca into his arms, shielding her from the pressing crowd–a gesture that drew sighs of envy from the women nearby. Camera shes flickered all around them.
Bianca leaned closer to Seth, their closeness impossible to miss.
“Is it true you two are about to make things official?” the reporter pressed, angling for the perfect
shot.
Bianca smiled graciously. “Yes, we’re getting engaged soon.”
“You two are the perfect match–brains and beauty!” the reporter eximed, then turned to the others, eager to share. “Mr. Harcourt hardly needs an introduction–he’s a regr feature in the business magazines. But let me tell you about his fiancée, Mr. Lowell. She holds a PhD in finance from WT Business School!”
“No wonder Mr. Harcourt is so smitten–what a power couple!”
Meanwhile, Noreen and Scott finally managed to squeeze their way out of the swarm, grateful for a moment of peace.
“I thought it was going to be a real interview, not just some tabloid circus,” Scott grumbled. “What a waste of time.”
Noreen silently agreed.
They had barely started to leave when a sharply dressed young man approached, all manners and poise. He greeted Noreen with a polite nod. “Miss Gilmore, Mr. Joyner would like to invite you to the VIP lounge for a conversation.”