The bass thumped through The Velvet Room, my club. From my booth, I watched the crowd move, a sea of faces and bodies, none of them worth remembering—until I saw her. She danced like she owned the place, like the music played just for her. Black dress, effortless. She didn’t belong here, but the way she moved said she didn’t care. I leaned forward, whiskey in hand, unable to take my eyes off her. I’d seen plenty of women come and go. But this one? This one was different. “Who’s that?” I asked Tommy. “No idea, boss.” I watched her laugh at some guy’s joke. He didn’t matter. She did. “Find out everything,” I said.