The Astor Hotel ballroom had the steady frequency of predatory wealth. Crystal clinked against fine china.
The air tasted of roasted truffle and expensive, heavy perfumes.
Ryan guided Zara through the crowd, her hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm, the liquid-gold silk of her dress brushing against his trousers with every step.
They approached a quiet, recessed alcove near the massive arched windows where Diana stood with two older men in sharp, conservative tuxedos.
"Arthur, Thomas," Diana said as Ryan approached. Her voice carried the effortless authority that commanded the space. "This is Ryan Russo. Rebuild Tech."
Arthur, a silver-haired man with the piercing, unblinking gaze of a senior partner at Sequoia Capital, extended his hand. Ryan matched the firm, dry grip.
