CHAPTER 297
"I actually don't think I have any non-alcoholic drinks up here," he admitted. That didn't surprise me. This didn't exactly look like the kind of office stocked with juice boxes. He gestured toward the door.
"Come on. Let's go back down to the bar." He said easily and relief flickered quietly through me.
"Okay." Michael walked over and opened the door, the sound of the club instantly rushing back in — louder now that the barrier between the office and the outside world was gone.
Music. Voices. Laughter. The bass thumped through the hallway floor again. We stepped out together, the door closing softly behind us as we moved back toward the staircase, leaving Chiara to her own world.
Downstairs, the club was even more alive than before. The dance floor was fuller now, lights moving across the crowd like waves of color.
People leaned against the bar laughing, drinks in their hands as bartenders worked quickly behind the counter. The night had officially started.
