The dimly lit lounge buzzed with quiet conversations and the clinking of crystal glasses. Among the well-dressed patrons, Vincent sat in his usual corner booth, a glass of bourbon in one hand, his dark eyes fixed on a woman at the bar.
She was different from the others. Not the usual type that threw themselves at powerful men like him. She carried herself with quiet confidence, completely unaware of the predator watching her.
Vincent’s leaned slightly toward his right-hand man, Rick. “Slip her this,” he murmured, sliding a sleek black card across the table.
Rick took it without question, moving through the crowd with ease. The woman barely noticed as he passed by, but when she glanced down at her drink, she found the card beside it.
“Meet me at the hotel room.”
No name. No details. Just an unspoken command.
For a moment, she stared at it, then lifted her gaze, scanning the room. Her eyes finally landed on Vincent. He raised his glass slightly, a smirk playing on his lips.
To his surprise, she didn’t seem flustered. Instead, she slowly turned the card between her fingers, as if considering. Then, without breaking eye contact, she tucked it into her purse and finished the last sip of her drink.
Vincent’s smirk deepened.
Now, the real game began.