The footsteps grew louder as our unexpected visitor approached. I turned toward the sound, curious about this mysterious client Victor seemed so eager for me to meet.
"Well, well," a familiar arrogant voice echoed through the warehouse. "Look what trash the wind blew in."
Liam Blackwood emerged from behind a towering display of jade stones, his expensive suit pristine and his smirk insufferable. Behind him walked an elderly man in traditional Chinese robes, carrying himself with the air of someone accustomed to respect.
"Blackwood," I said calmly, unsurprised by his presence. New York City's elite circles were smaller than they appeared.
"Hayes," Liam sneered, his eyes scanning my simple clothing with obvious disdain. "Still dressing like a beggar, I see. Did you get lost on your way to the charity handout line?"
Victor stepped forward diplomatically. "Gentlemen, you know each other?"
