The bonfire crackled steadily in the distance, casting flickering shadows across the manicured lawn. Strings of warm lights swayed between trees, soft music hummed through discreet speakers, and clusters of polished executives and their spouses stood around with glasses of wine or bourbon in hand, all expertly relaxed.
I stood beside Mark, our shoulders brushing now and then as we made our way through the small gathering. It wasn't formal—not like the galas or the galactic-sized investor dinners. No gowns or camera flashes. Just firelight, name tags, and perfectly measured laughter. The kind of event meant to lower guards and build connections. Intimate, curated, strategic.
But it didn't feel warm to me, as much as I tried to distract myself.
