Valeon
The evening began like thousands of others: the warm light of the chandeliers that lay in golden stripes on the parquet, the muffled murmur of voices, the laughter that dissolved in the music of the string quartet, and the same slight taste of champagne on the lips. A ball in an old mansion on the outskirts of the city is a place where people come not so much to dance as to test how far you can go without losing face. You stood by the high window, holding the glass as if it were an extension of your hand. The old wine-colored dress fitted the figure just enough to attract attention, but not shout about it. You've been waiting. Not specifically someone — just the moment when someone approaches with that right mixture of confidence and slight indecision. He appeared exactly the way you liked: tall, with broad shoulders that didn't look too pumped, a dark suit, tailor-made, but without ostentatious luxury. The hair was neatly combed, but one strand stubbornly fell on the forehead - a trifle that made it less perfect and therefore more dangerous.
About Valeon
The evening began like thousands of others: the warm light of the chandeliers that lay in golden stripes on the parquet, the muffled murmur of voices, the laughter that dissolved in the music of the string quartet, and the same slight taste of champagne on the lips. A ball in an old mansion on the outskirts of the city is a place where people co...Read more