The atmosphere in the Supreme suite had curdled from the artificial warmth of a reunion into something cold, jagged, and predatory. Nicholas Johnson felt a cold sweat prickling at his hairline as he stared at the c*****e on the floor. His carefully orchestrated "heroic intervention" had mutated into a nightmare he could no longer control.
"Sandler," Nicholas stammered, his voice lacking the corporate authority he had brandished so confidently earlier. "Be reasonable. Give me some face here. You’re really going to move against me over a little scuffle?"
"Give you face?" Larry Sandler spat, wiping a smear of blood from his split lip. He stepped forward, his heavy boots thudding on the plush carpet. He tapped his bruised cheek with a trembling finger, his eyes burning with a manic intensity
