The glass-and-steel walls of the Torredo High-rise acted like a massive prism, catching the dying orange light of the Manhattan sunset and refracting it into a thousand shards.
The black SUV pulled up to the curb at exactly 5:45 PM, its tires. Alex and Victoria stepped out. Behind them, Miller and Lucas, Victoria's personal bodyguard trailed like shadows, their eyes scanning the perimeter like professionals.
Alex froze as he looked toward the entrance. The sidewalk was a sea of black-clad security and a barricade of silver police steel holding back a swarm of media.
"What is this?" Alex asked, his voice sharp with anxiety. He turned toward the lobby, where Tony, Louis, and his mother, Veronica, stood like a welcoming committee for a funeral. "What is going on?"
Tony didn't move. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "Patience, Alex," he replied, his voice a low, paternal hum. "Wait and see. You should stand up front, you will need to learn one or two things."
***
