Dangerous Currency

Heavy bass hummed through the floorboards of the Obsidian Club, where amber crystal glinted under polished chandeliers and thick velvet drowned out the city outside. Men in custom-cut charcoal coats occupied the plush booths with the quiet arrogance of rulers, surrounded by women shimmering in silver beads. Chiara knew within three paces that every second she lingered here was a borrowed risk.