Angel stepped out of her sleek black car, her heels clicking softly against the glossy marble floor as she entered the dimly lit corridor of the building.
Her presence was striking — poised, confident, yet slightly hesitant, as though her instincts were whispering warnings into her ears.
Behind her, a few unfamiliar men in dark suits followed at a measured pace. She didn't recognize any of them. Their blank expressions and silent steps made them seem more like shadows than escorts.
Her eyes scanned the hallway with growing unease.
The neon-pink lights reflecting off the metallic walls, the muffled throb of sensual music, the red velvet curtains — everything about this place reeked of seduction and secrecy.
A brothel? Or perhaps a strip club?
She could barely tell the difference at this point.
Angel's brow furrowed with discomfort. Why in the world would her business partner arrange a meeting here? Of all places?
She sighed deeply, her breath shaky.
