The valet pulled the black executive sedan to the curb with a speed that signaled he was eager to be rid of us. As the doors slid shut, the chaotic roar of the Grand Victoria’s ballroom was instantly replaced by the muffled, sterile silence of the climate-controlled cabin.
Elara exhaled, a long, controlled breath that carried the residual heat of the ballroom's conflict. She loosened the clasp of her diamond necklace, her posture shifting from the rigid poise of the public CEO to the more fluid, relaxed stance of someone who had just won a war.
She turned to look at me. I was sitting in the corner, staring out at the blurred streetlights, my posture slouching into that perfect, unthreatening 'logistics courier' shape.
"You handled that with... surgical precision," Elara said, her voice
