Geneva
I hate clubs. The only reason I agreed to meet the gallery realtor here was to piss Demir off. As I sit in the VIP lounge with this Sava guy, a large, Eastern European-looking guy with a shaved head and piercing blue eyes, I do start to contemplate my life choices. I mean, the man is not that bad, despite his weird accent and his care-for-nothing attitude. He used to be Quinn’s cellmate and Quinn swears he’s legit and all, and I am not even concerned if he’s dangerous or not - humans don’t scare me. They never have. It’s the way he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me that makes me uncomfortable.
“Drink, my dear Geneva,” he tells me with his thick accent which is actually quite fun, tossing a tumbler full of some transparent liquid at me. “Then we talk business.”
Without e
