The bar at the Sunset Tower was the kind of place where the drinks weren't just poured — they were performed. Dark wood, soft golden lighting, a pianist somewhere in the corner playing a tune that felt too slow for anyone under fifty.
Izaac sat at the far end, jacket draped over the bar stool beside him, nursing a whiskey he'd barely touched. Tonight wasn't about getting drunk — it was about cooling down. The memory of Victor Liang's smug half-smile from the other day still burned in his mind like a cigarette ember. That man wasn't just disrespectful; he was dangerous in a way that didn't rely on muscle. He played people like currency.
He was halfway through tracing the rim of his glass when a voice cut in from behind."I thought you didn't do quiet bars," Madelyn Cline said, sliding onto the stool next to him.
Izaac looked up. "What makes you think I don't?"
She smirked, tossing her hair back. "Because you seem like the type who thrives in chaos. This place is… still water."
Her drink arrived before she even ordered. That told Izaac two things: she'd been here before, and the bartender remembered her. She took a sip, then studied him over the rim of the glass.
"You've been on a lot of people's lips lately," she said. "And not just the good kind."
Izaac leaned back, one eyebrow raised. "Let me guess — Victor Liang?"
Madelyn gave a slow nod. "He's not a man you can just ignore. In my experience, people either orbit him or burn up trying to cross him."
There was a pause — the kind where music fills the air but feels far away.
"You've crossed him already, haven't you?" she asked.
"I didn't shake his hand the way he wanted," Izaac said evenly. "Guess that's enough for some people."
Madelyn's expression softened, almost like she was about to say something protective, but then her eyes narrowed just slightly. "You know, you're a little… too confident for someone who's new to this city. Makes people wonder what you're hiding."
Izaac took a slow sip of his whiskey. "Maybe I'm not hiding anything. Maybe I just don't feel the need to audition for anyone."
That earned him a faint smile. "Dangerous answer," she said. "Especially around here."
They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses forming a cocoon around them. She tapped her nails lightly against her glass, then leaned closer.
"Listen," she said in a lower tone, "Victor… he's connected in ways that don't make sense on paper. He's not just a VP with a cushy job. He's got people in both Asia and Hollywood who owe him, and he collects on those debts in… creative ways."
Izaac didn't break eye contact. "Thanks for the warning."
Madelyn gave him a look that could be read as either concern or curiosity. "I'm not warning you. I'm asking you — don't get yourself killed before you figure out if you even want to stay in this game."
Before he could answer, a familiar ripple passed through the bar — the subtle shift when someone magnetic walks in. Madison Beer appeared in the doorway, her gaze sweeping over the room. She spotted Izaac almost instantly, her expression unreadable.
Madelyn noticed the look. Her lips curled in the faintest, knowing smirk. "Well," she said, standing and finishing her drink in one smooth motion, "I guess my competition's here."
She left him with that, disappearing into the crowd.
Izaac swirled the last of his whiskey, the ice clinking softly. He wasn't sure if she meant competition in business or something else entirely. Either way, he had a feeling the night wasn't over.