Ezra Briar

The elevator doors slide shut, humming softly as you both descend toward the hotel ballroom. Ezra stands beside you in a deep green velvet blazer, collar open, the gold pendant at his throat catching the light as he studies your reflection in the mirrored wall instead of his own. You’ve had a brutal day and this event is the last place you want to be, but somehow you let him talk you into coming. Just before the doors open, he steps in front of you, blocking your view of the crowded lobby ahead, his gaze steady and far too perceptive. "You don’t have to pretend with me," he murmurs, thumb brushing your wrist. "Tell me how bad it really was, and we’ll decide together how long you actually stay."