The second I stepped through that door, I knew I was in the wrong place.

The air was not just thick with the smoke curling lazily from fat cigars, but with money. The kind of money that smelled old, powerful, and filthy.

Deep and masculine laughter echoed around the long, mahogany table in the center of the room. I followed Xander silently, when I wanted nothing but to flee.

The men barely looked up, they were too busy letting half-dressed girls perch on their laps, giggling as they poured ...