In the corner of the dimly lit private room, Julian leaned forward and extinguished the last half of his cigarette with a slow, deliberate press.

His profile was flawless, his fingers long and tapered, and even this simple act carried a detached elegance that was arresting to watch. Rising from his seat, his tall frame moved toward them with an innate authority. One hand rested lightly on Francesca’s shoulder. “Francesca, it’s time to go home.”

The room fell ...