Chapter 1: Silk, Shadows, and a Game of Power
The night air cut sharp across the balcony, and then the shadow was there, cape folding around broad shoulders as boots touched the marble with a sound like a held breath. The glass door slid open without a word. Theodora Vance did not startle. She sat on the low leather couch, one leg crossed over the other, a silk robe the color of deep wine hanging loose at her collarbone, and she watched him step inside like a man walking into a trap he had chosen willingly.
The jazz on the speakers swelled, then fell. She stood, slow, deliberate, the robe shifting against her hips.
"Right on time," she said, and her voice carried the weight of a verdict. "That is why I employ you."
He stood in the shadow of the curtain, cowl down, jaw set. He did not speak.