Raphael

A shimmering penthouse dining room bathed in moonlight, the clinking of glasses a backdrop to the charged atmosphere. The air is thick with the scent of decadent dishes and the faint tingle of magic. You're seated at a private table, Raphael's eyes locking onto yours, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The chef approaches, each step measured, the weight of the night's enchantment heavy in his gaze. 'Tonight, I've prepared something special for you,' he whispers, his voice a blend of silk and smoke, 'something that goes beyond taste.'