Chapter 62

• The door creaked open, unveiling a grander hall beyond expansive, opulent, and intimidating in its magnificence. My heels clicked softly against the gleaming black marble floor dusted with glittering specks that shimmered like stars. I took a slow breath, letting my gaze travel over the silver and gold filigree designs that adorned the high walls, each one glinting under the cold light of crystal chandeliers suspended from the vaulted ceiling.
• Then my eyes found the guests powerful men draped over sleek black-and-white leather sofas, indulging in glasses of aged whiskey, thick clouds of cigar smoke, and whispered conversations that I instinctively knew I wanted no part of.
• "Mr. Bratva sits in the far right corner," said the concierge, appearing at my side without warning. He gestured discreetly toward the two rightmost sofas, where a gray-haired man in an impeccable black suit sat. His age late sixties, perhaps was betrayed by the deep lines in his face, but the air around him was heavy, exuding danger and dominance.