The Diamond Room at Bellmare was all sleek geometry and hushed affluence. Brushed brass fixtures, velvet banquettes, and shadows deep enough to drown in. It was the kind of place that never printed menus, where negotiations weren't spoken so much as performed through posture and silence.
Levi Van Doren arrived precisely on time.
His tailored overcoat was swept from his shoulders the moment he stepped through the doors, revealing a charcoal suit cut with surgical precision. His presence did not demand attention, it commanded it. As always, his expression was unreadable, cold as the wind that had chased him into the building.
"Mr. Van Doren," said the maître d', bowing slightly. "Ms. Keane is waiting for you. This way please."
The woman in question Eleanor Keane, principal strategist for Nyros Technologies, was seated near the back, perfectly composed in a dove-gray dress and dark-rimmed glasses. She stood as he approached, offering a gloved hand.
