The private lounge was quiet when Lily arrived, the soft hum of jazz weaving through the room. Michael was waiting, as always, lounging in one of the deep armchairs near the window. His smile was the first thing she noticed, sharp and calculated, like a knife hidden behind velvet.
“Ah, Lily,” he said, his tone as smooth as the drink in his hand. “Always a pleasure. Though I must say, I was starting to think I’d have to send a search party.”
Lily straightened her back, holding her ground as she approached. “You said seven,” she replied, keeping her voice neutral. “I’m not late.”
Michael’s grin widened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Of course not. Punctual as ever.” He gestured toward the chair opposite him. “Sit.”
She did as he asked, setting her bag down on t
