Still in Las Vegas, Mr. Dante — my Latin investor — invited me to his penthouse for his daughter’s birthday party. That was where we would finally close the deal. He had sent me an elegant invitation card that would grant me access through the security gates.
I dressed in the required all-white code and arrived at the party in an Uber.
The moment I stepped inside the house, I was stunned. The penthouse was magnificent. Guests in pristine white outfits laughed and chatted while sipping drinks as smooth Latin music played in the background. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.
I stopped at a high-top table, slowly scanning the crowd, searching for…
“There you are!” a familiar voice boomed.
Mr. Dante pulled me into a warm hug. Just who I was looking for.
“You came.”
“Of cours
