The sharp click of Victoria Langford’s Louboutin heels echoed with deliberate authority across the marble floor of the Orion Club—an institution so exclusive, its membership list was shorter than most royal bloodlines. It was late, nearly ten, and the city outside hummed with life. But in here, time slowed to her rhythm.
The hostess didn’t need prompting. She rose at Victoria’s arrival like a well-trained falconer greeting a returning hawk and led her to her usual seat: a velvet-lined corner booth with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Lagos skyline, soft jazz curling through the air like silk smoke.
Victoria removed her gloves with careful precision, one finger at a time. Her coat slid off her shoulders, revealing a sharply tailored black dress with subtle gold accents at the sea
