He would need Sandro then, Zane mused as he stood before the last door on the main corridor.
Should he wait for his friend? Or should he risk it?
He took his lower lip in, the wheels of his mind running as he pondered the best strategy to utilize. Finally, he gave a slight shrug, gripped the knob of the door, and turned it. But it was locked.
He frowned. That was different from the others. But of course, this room housed two separate levels—one that shouldn't be open to ordinary outsiders.
After considering everything that might go wrong, he muttered a silent fuck it and knocked. Twice.
He heard the ruffling of footsteps, and then the door was opening.
Zane maintained a blank, impenetrable face when he came face to face with a huge man—a bouncer masquerading as a receptionist. Only this one didn't have the joviality of the others, nor the eagerness to please him and make him patronize the club.
No, this one looked at him like he was a mere disturbance.
