Across the room, a man in his sixties was discussing his rare antique collection as if he were talking about grocery shopping.
"Each one costs millions, of course," the man said casually, sipping his wine. "But true luxury is in the rarity of an item, not just the price."
Zack, overhearing this, had to stop himself from whistling out loud.
Millions.
For a single piece of furniture.
Yeah, this crowd was sothing else.
But the mont Maximus arrived, the focus shifted entirely to him.
Maximus didn’t hesitate.
He walked toward the center of the VIP section, grabbed a champagne flute, and raised it high.
"Ladies and gentlen," Maximus began, his deep voice carrying easily across the room.
The guests quieted down, eyes now solely on him.
"I want to personally thank each and every one of you for being here today. Salt Haven was built with a vision — not just as a resort, but as an escape, a paradise, a world of pure luxury."
He let the words settle, scanning the room.
"And none of this would be possible without the people who believe in it. People like you."
A few approving nods. So murmurs of agreent.
"We have worked tirelessly to bring you the finest experiences, the most exquisite cuisine, the most unparalleled service — because you deserve nothing less."
A pause. Then, he raised his glass a little higher.
"So today, we celebrate. To new beginnings, to unforgettable mories, and to Salt Haven !"
"To Salt Haven !" the crowd echoed, lifting their glasses in a cheer.
A round of applause followed, and a few guests even stood up, clapping enthusiastically.
The mont Maximus lowered his glass, a handful of won imdiately sward him.
A few ladies, mostly in their late twenties and early thirties, stood up from their seats, their eyes gleaming with excitent.
"Maximus, can we take a picture with you?" one asked, already pulling out her phone.
"You’re even more handso up close," another added, giggling.
Maximus, ever the charismatic businessman, flashed a polite yet charming smile.
"Of course," he said smoothly. "I’d be honored."
He posed for the first picture, then the second.
Then a third.
It didn’t take long before more guests started approaching.
A mix of socialites and influencers, eager to post their encounters with the resort’s young, dashing owner.
But not everyone was pleased.
Seated back at the table, Anita had been watching the entire thing unfold, her cheeks puffing up in irritation.
At first, she tried to ignore it.
After all, Maximus was a public figure.
Of course people would want pictures with him.
But the more she watched, the more annoyed she beca.
One of the won actually touched his arm while laughing.
Another one leaned in a little too close for comfort.
Anita’s eyebrow twitched.
She stood up from her chair with purpose.
The mont she reached Maximus, she placed her hands firmly on his arm and turned toward the won with a sweet yet obviously territorial smile.
"Alright, ladies, I think that’s enough," she said in a sugary tone.
The group blinked at her in mild surprise.
Anita’s smile widened, but her grip on Maximus’s arm tightened just a little more.
"Let’s not take up too much of Mr. Pri’s ti, okay?"
It wasn’t a request.
The won, catching the hint, reluctantly backed away, though a few of them giggled amongst themselves.
Maximus, anwhile, just raised an amused brow at Anita.
"You jealous?" he teased.
Anita huffed, crossing her arms.
"Of course not," she said. "I’m just looking out for your schedule. You have other guests to attend to, don’t you?"
Maximus smirked but didn’t push the subject.
Instead, he simply adjusted his tie and straightened his suit.
"Well then," he said, turning toward the other VIPs. "Let’s get back to making this day unforgettable."
Anita, still pouting slightly, stayed by his side.
Maximus had barely settled back into his chair before he was invited to join a group of well-dressed, seasoned businessn sitting around an exclusive corner of the VIP lounge.
These weren’t just any wealthy guests.
They were real estate moguls, n who had made their fortunes by shaping cities, developing skyscrapers, and transforming barren land into billion-dollar projects.
For Maximus sitting at this table was a golden opportunity.
He adjusted his tie, picked up his glass of whiskey, and joined the conversation.
The discussion was already in full swing when Maximus sat down.
One of the n, a stocky gentleman in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, was talking about a luxury waterfront developnt in Miami.
" — the key is exclusivity," he was saying, swirling his drink in hand. "You don’t just sell property, you sell an experience. A brand. If people think they’re buying just a house, they won’t spend ten million. But if they think they’re buying a lifestyle, they’ll throw down twenty."
The man beside him, a younger investor in his late thirties, nodded in agreent.
"That’s exactly what I’ve been doing in Dubai," he said. "Ultra-modern architecture, cutting-edge technology, and a concierge service that makes owners feel like royalty. That’s how you justify a high price tag."
Maximus listened intently, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim of his glass.
This was a different level of real estate.
Sure, he had done so real estate before, but these n were talking about building cities, changing skylines.
He was ambitious, but hearing them speak widened his perspective.
Then, one of the older n turned to him with a curious smile.
"You’ve been quiet, Maximus. What about you?"
Maximus smirked and leaned back slightly.
"I’m in real estate too," he said, taking a small sip of his whiskey.
The table quieted slightly.
A few of the n exchanged glances before one of them, a sharp-eyed investor in his sixties, chuckled.
"Well, we all know about Salt Haven ," he said. "But is that your only project?"
Maximus’s smirk deepened.
"Salt Haven is my current project," he correc
ted. "But it’s not my last."
The group looked intrigued.
The older man leaned forward, resting his hands on the table.
"Then tell us," he said. "What’s your vision?"
Maximus set his glass down.
He wasn’t intimidated.
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