Soft, golden lighting glowed from hanging glass chandeliers, casting gentle reflections across the marble-topped bar and velvet seating. The air was scented with hints of aged whiskey, warm vanilla, and a touch of designer cologne drifting from well-dressed patrons.
Polished bartenders in crisp shirts and tailored vests moved with poised efficiency, shaking cocktails with precise rhythm. Behind them, shelves lined with premium spirits shimmered under soft backlighting, like rare jewels on display.
The music was a seamless part of the ambiance—lo-fi soul playing in the background, just loud enough to give the room a heartbeat without overpowering conversation.
Around the room, conversations were quieter, more intimate—business murmurs, flirtatious exchanges, and the occasional gentle laugh. The clink of crystal glasses and the occasional pop of a champagne cork punctuated the air like elegant punctuation marks in a whispered novel.
Selene, dressed in a black off-shoulder bodycon dress, sat quietly in one corner of the lounge. Two bottles of whiskey and a pair of glasses sat on the table before her. Across from her, Sophia leaned back gracefully, clad in a fitted black blazer and matching mini skirt. The two women were like dark roses in a crystal vase—elegant, magnetic, and impossible to ignore. Every few minutes, passing glances from men lingered just a moment too long.
"I still don't know why you insisted on coming to this particular bar again. This is the fourth time we have been here this month, and we have not yet seen your so-called prince charming. Are you sure you met him here? Maybe it's just a one-time thing," Sophia said.
"I am sure I met him here. He is a regular here; the bartender had confirmed it," Selene answered back.
"I guess today is another wasted day. Let's just finish this whiskey and leave this place," Sophia said irritatedly.
"Selene! Is that you?" a man cut into their conversation.
"What are you doing here?" the man continued.
Selene looked at the stranger talking to her. The man was clad in a blue turtleneck and black jeans. A golden necklace hung loosely from his neck and rested on his chest. A golden earring shimmered from his ear. A brand new Rolex watch clamped down hard on his wrist.
Selene looked at the familiar face but couldn't remember where she had met him.
"Give me your most expensive spirit," the man told the bartender.
"My name is Chris. Sorry for the late introduction," the man said.
"Is he the one you are talking about, Selene?" Sophia whispered to Selene.
"Nope. His face looks familiar, but he is not the one."
"And who is this pretty damsel sitting beside you, Selene?" Chris asked.
"She is my best friend. Her name is Sophia," Selene replied.
"Wow, what a nice name," Chris said while leaning closer to Sophia. He was so close to Sophia that their faces were almost touching.
"Which type are you, Sophia?" Chris said, looking closely into her dark eyes.
"Stay back," Sophia said angrily and pushed him away. Chris staggered back and almost fell.
"Ohh, you are the feisty type," Chris said while sitting back in his seat.
Just as Chris leaned back into his seat, the air in the lounge shifted. The soft hum of music faltered for a brief moment—barely noticeable, but enough to make Selene's gaze flick toward the bar's entrance.
A group of men had just walked in.
They didn't fit the usual crowd. Broad shoulders under heavy coats, eyes scanning every face with calculated indifference. Two of them headed straight to a secluded VIP booth, while another pair lingered near the bar, tension coiling around them like smoke.
Sophia narrowed her eyes.
"Those guys... they don't look like they're here for drinks," she muttered.
Before Selene could respond, a sudden shout shattered the lounge's gentle murmur.
"You think you can come here and disrespect the Romanos?" a voice barked from across the room. A man in a gray suit stood, knocking over his glass. His eyes were locked on one of the newcomers near the bar.
"Romano?" Selene whispered.
Chris's expression darkened instantly.
"Stay here," he said sharply, standing up.
"Chris, what's going on?" Selene called after him.
But Chris was already moving—smooth, quiet, purposeful. Not toward the door, not away, but toward the growing confrontation.
The man in the gray suit reached into his coat.
Someone screamed.
And then—
Bang!
The room exploded into motion. Glass shattered, tables overturned, and bodies hit the floor as a gunshot rang through the air.
People screamed and scrambled for cover. The once-elegant lounge descended into chaos.
Chris dropped low behind a nearby table, motioning sharply to Selene and Sophia.
"Get down! Don't move!"
Another shot fired. One of the men near the bar fell back, clutching his shoulder.
Selene crouched beside Sophia, heart thudding wildly in her chest.
"What the hell is going on?" Sophia hissed.
Chris pulled something small and metallic from his pocket—it wasn't a weapon, but it gleamed faintly in the dim light. He muttered something into it, too fast to catch, then ducked behind the bar.
Seconds later, more men poured into the lounge from the back exit—security, or maybe not. They moved like they were trained. Efficient. Dangerous.
Chris reappeared behind Selene, his expression unreadable.
"We need to leave. Now," he said.
"Who are you?" Selene asked, breathless.
Chris gave her a small, tight smile.
"Let's just say... I know how to stay alive when things get messy."
Following Chris's lead, they escaped through the back door. After they were some distance away from the bar—
"Selene, how is your baby doing?" Chris asked.
"And how did you know about the baby?" Sophia asked.