Chapter 130

Alexander

I stepped out of the car, taking in the sleek façade of Noir, one of Manhattan’s most exclusive lounges. John had parked right out front, a privilege only money and influence could buy in this city.

“I’ll text when I’m ready,” I told him, adjusting my cufflinks as I closed the door.

The bouncer straightened when he saw me approach, nodding respectfully as he unhooked the velvet rope. Inside, the bar hummed with the quiet energy of people who could afford to drink here on a Tuesday night. Dim lighting cast everything in amber and shadow, giving even the most ordinary conversations an air of conspiracy.

I spotted Leo immediately. He was seated at our usual corner table, nursing what looked like a neat whiskey. His eyes tracked me across the room, his face giving away nothing.

“You’re late,” he said as I slid into the seat across from him.

“Traffic,” I replied, flagging down a server with just a glance. “Scotch. The Macallan 25.”