The international delegation hotel's main ballroom exuded an artificial, gelid opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting golden reflections onto the long tables draped in white, where federation delegates, international judges, and elite skaters congregated for Skate America's official welcome dinner. The murmur of conversations in various languages mingled with the soft background music of a piano, but beneath the diplomatic etiquette, the atmosphere vibrated with the competitive tension of the Grand Prix's first official stop.
Jake stood near the Japanese delegation's table, holding a glass of mineral water. His dark, impeccably tailored suit accentuated the rigidity of his shoulders. His deep violet eyes paid no attention to the greetings of local executives; they traversed the room methodically, scanning the faces in the crowd until, finally, they locked onto the side entrance.
