The Lamplighter was in its element. Dinner service was in full swing, the hum of conversation blending seamlessly with the rhythmic clatter of dishes and the occasional burst of laughter from the bar. The scent of seared steak and rosemary lingered in the air, mingling with the sweetness of wine being poured into crystal glasses.
Caspian worked his section effortlessly, his movements precise, controlled, second nature. The staff was keeping up well tonight, and even Laura seemed at ease, moving through the space with quiet authority.
Then the doors swung open, and everything shifted. A man in a stiff black suit stepped inside, his expression already one of scrutiny. Caspian barely glanced at him at first—until he caught the sharp look the hostess, Michelle, shot toward the kitchen. Then
