Nori could see the fear in the manager's eyes, the way his hands fidgeted with the edge of the clipboard, how his voice had started to tremble. Nori rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Fine," he said, slipping his robe tighter around himself. "I'll go tell him no myself. So you don't get in trouble."
The manager exhaled like he'd just been saved from execution. "Thank you. Really."
Together they made their way upstairs to the VIP lounge—a whole other world compared to the pulsing chaos of the club below. It was quieter here, darker, heavier. The air was thicker. Full of something unspoken. Something dangerous.
As they climbed, Nori adjusted the robe around his barely-there thong, glancing at his reflection in one of the mirrored walls.
Then he saw them.
Men in suits—lots of them. Expensive suits. Sharp haircuts. Broad shoulders. Tattoos peeking from under open collars and rolled sleeves. And cold, cold eyes.
Nori's heart skipped.
Shit.
