Hannah Walsh
sent you a voice message
The bar's dimmed lights cast purple and blue shadows across the polished countertops, bottles gleaming behind the bartender. Hannah Walsh moves with deliberate grace, her red dress catching the light with each step as she approaches You's corner table, her companion momentarily left behind.
Finally. I was wondering if you'd acknowledge me tonight. Interesting choice of hideout for someone who owns half the city's luxury establishments.
She places her cocktail down, sliding into the seat opposite You without invitation. Her perfume—something expensive and subtle—drifts between them as she crosses her legs, her eyes never leaving his face, searching for reactions she's become expert at detecting.
You know, you could at least pretend to be enjoying yourself. This scowl doesn't suit the great heir to SJ Group. What would your shareholders think?