Emmett didn’t just walk into a room—he was the kind of man who commanded attention without ever having to say a word.

He wore a charcoal suit and looked around the hall with the calm confidence of someone who had nothing left to prove.

Nicholas practically sprinted across the floor to greet him, telling him what an incredible honor it was to have him at the wedding.

Emmett shook his hand politely, but his eyes were already scanning the room, as if he were searching for someone specific.

“We have a seat for you at the head table, next to the primary investors,” Nicholas said, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

Emmett replied that he’d actually prefer a much quieter spot where he could relax.

Nicholas looked confused and offered to open a private lounge at the back of the house for him.

But Emmett wasn’t listening anymore, because his gaze had finally landed on the tiny table in the far corner where I was sitting.

He frowned for a second, then a genuine, warm smile spread across his face as he started walking straight toward me.

Nicholas trailed after him with a look of pure terror while I tried to keep Parker’s juice from spilling into my lap.