A gentle warmth touched Mark's features.

Upon his arrival at the club, the evening vibrancy was palpable.

Peter awaited him at the entrance.

As the vehicle halted, Peter leaned in, his voice a whisper.

“Cecilia's here. She's unaware you're coming."

A smile tugged at Mark's lips.

Together, they ventured into the private dining area, already occupied by a dozen individuals.

Except for the film crew, there were five investors.

Upon entry, Mark's presence caught the attention of an acquaintance who initiated light conversation. It was Mark's voice that caused Cecilia to divert her attention from her phone, her gaze Lifting.

It was him.

She hadn't been informed of Mark's attendance.

While Mark mingled, his attention discreetly remained on Cecilia.

Their past liaison had stirred ample talk, but current company seemed largely oblivious to their history.

Mark's gaze was inscrutable.

To the rest, it appeared Mark was taking a fancy to Cecilia, prompting playful jibes.

"Miss Fowler is no ordinary woman. Mr. Evans might not stand a chance this time."

Mark's chuckle was low, his ease in such scenarios evident.

Forgoing a direct response, he addressed someone near Cecilia.

"Regardless of my prospects, I'd relish an opportunity to discuss the script with Miss Fowler. Lately, this field intrigues me to make some investment."

The seat adjacent to Cecilia became available as the person stood up to make room, and Mark took the opportunity to sit beside her. With eleven people squeezing into ten seats, the proximity was undeniable.