“You’ve been distracted lately,” he observes.
“I’m always distracted. That’s called running an empire.”
“No. This is different. You’re searching for something.”
“We’re still recovering from the exposé investigation. Will be for a long time.”
“Isn’t new. You’ve been hunting that ghost for four years.” Felix leans against my desk. “The last few weeks, you’ve been worse. What changed?”
Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.
“Drop it, Felix.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” He swirls his drink. “Damien asked me yesterday if you were compromised. If something from the past was resurfacing.”
My jaw tightens. “What did you tell him?”
“That you’re as focused as ever. That whatever’s bothering you doesn’t affect your work.” His gaze sharpens. “I wasn’t lying, was I?”
“No.”
“Good. If Damien thinks you’re a liability…”
“I’m aware of what Damien does with liabilities.”
“Then stop giving him reasons to wonder.” Felix straightens. “Come to Apex. Drink. Pretend to enjoy yourself for a few hours. Remind everyone—including yourself—that you’re still in control.”
He’s right. Appearances matter in our world. Weakness invites challenges, and I can’t afford either.
“Fine. I’m not staying past midnight.”
“We’ll see.”
***
Apex is exactly what I remember—bass thrumming through floors that vibrate with each beat, lights strobing across bodies pressed too close together, the smell of expensive alcohol and cheaper desperation.
We’re shown to the VIP area immediately, a section cordoned off where we can watch the chaos without being consumed by it.
Oleg is already there, sprawled across a leather couch with a bottle in one hand and his phone in the other.
“Finally,” he says when he sees me. “Felix said you’d probably bail.”
“I’m here.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes to finish this drink.”
Oleg laughs, gesturing to the server who appears instantly. “Bring another bottle. The good stuff. My cousin’s paying.”
“Your cousin is always paying,” I mutter, but I don’t argue.
The server—a woman who can’t be more than twenty-two—returns with the bottle and fresh glasses. Oleg tips her with a bill that’s probably more than she makes in a week, and she smiles like he’s her favorite person in the world.
“To Friday,” Oleg announces, raising his glass. “To not thinking about work for at least three hours.”
“Bold assumption,” Felix says, but he drinks anyway.
