MISTRESS OF THE GAME
The bar, a breathtaking structure of dark mahogany and onyx, dominated the far end of the room.
Bartenders in tailored vests and ties moved like dancers, their every movement crisp and exact.
The waitresses glided between tables, dressed in sleek black dresses, each one chosen for both beauty and discretion.
Everything screamed power.
And everyone here the men in their bespoke suits, the women dripping in diamonds was hunting for something.
I forced myself to breathe, to move with the same detached grace as Dante, who navigated the floor like a shark through water.
I leaned closer.
"So, where to?" I asked under my breath.
Bab Populer