Cora didn't say anything, but her stride slowed ever so slightly. She wasn't expecting Robert to be ahead of schedule. That was rare for men of his level—men who made people wait to show power.
They followed the waiter through a long corridor that was lined with contemporary artwork and subtle golden lights. The atmosphere whispered wealth. Quiet power. Discretion.
And then, the doors to the VIP room were pulled open.
The moment they stepped in, the difference was clear.
The space was pristine, private, intimate, and designed for kings. The walls were lined with elegant cream-colored curtains, and a chandelier hung above like a crown made of crystal fire. A long glass table stretched in the middle, but what drew both their attention wasn't the interior.
It was the man seated at the far end, Robert.
Malisa's steps faltered as her eyes landed on him.
