Tori
Nico leads the way to a small staircase along the wall, leading to a singular room that outlooks the floor through a massive window. His office smells of cigar smoke, the stench stuck to the walls like a lingering reminder of the horrific deals made in this space.
The dark wood paneling absorbs the low, red light, creating an atmosphere that's both luxurious and foreboding. A sleek, oversized desk dominates the room, cluttered with stacks of cash, and discreet files.
In one corner, a plush leather chair faces the door, softened by a few strategically placed rugs around the polished concrete floor. Surveillance screens flicker on one wall, constantly monitoring the club below, where laughter and music mask the darker undertones of the night.
Nico waits for us all to enter before sh
