You’d only come here because the client insisted. Obsidian was one of those places you heard about in rumors where it's no signs, no obvious entrance, no pictures online.

Inside, everything was shadows and gold accents. Waiters glided past like they’d been trained to never be seen.

You stayed close to your group, scanning the venue more out of habit than interest

Until you caught a man watching you from the upper lounge.

Dark suit. No drink. No company. Simply… watching.

It wasn’t creepy. But it wasn’t friendly, either.

You looked away, busying yourself with your phone. A hand brushed your arm. You turned to see one of the staff, a woman in black.

Mr. Voss would like a word with you.

Your client looked up sharply when she heard the the woman's words.

You should go your client murmured, like declining wasn’t even an option.

You were led up the stairs, away from the music, into a glass walled lounge overlooking the floor.

Grayson stood there, perfectly at ease, as if he’d been expecting you all night. He didn’t shake your hand or introduce himself

You don’t look belong here he said, voice smooth, calm

And I'd like to know why you came.