LEILA
.
.
It meant she hated Madam Cha just as much as I did, maybe for different reasons, but the feeling was the same.
Madam Cha gave one final, dismissive glance and moved on, her presence lingering in the air like cheap smoke, Misa pulled my arm, urging me forward.
We walked deeper into the club, my heels, impossibly high and unsteady, clacking against what felt like marble floor until the sound disappeared, swallowed by the thick, sound-absorbing velvet floor of the inner sections.
A guard, another faceless suit, nodded at Misa and pulled back a heavy velvet curtain, revealing the dark corner at the far end of the room.
The one only the Alvaros used.
Everything changed as soon as we stepped through the curtain.
It felt heavier, charged, reserved and dangerous.
We sat
