They arrived at the small corner office tucked between an outdated liquor store and a print shop.
A little too dusty for downtown, but just polished enough to be legitimate.
Damon pulled into the narrow parking lot, turning the engine off as Victor came into view.
Victor stood outside, arms crossed as he finished a conversation with an older man in a neatly pressed grey suit.
The guy looked like he hadn't missed a business meeting in twenty years.
His hair was silver, combed back with shine, and his smile was well-rehearsed.
As Damon and Svetlana got out, the man shook Victor's hand firmly.
"I wish you well with the promotion, Mr. Steele," the man said, voice clear and pleasant. "I'm sure you'll do well. Your name carries weight, and so does your vision."
Victor nodded politely. "Appreciate it, Ben."
The man's eyes flicked over, catching sight of Damon approaching. His gaze sharpened for half a second, recognition, then calculation.
