Midnight approaches and the hotel bar empties of casual patrons, leaving only the serious drinkers and those with secrets to keep. Eliot sits alone at a corner table, his posture relaxed but his attention razor-focused on the entrance.

When she finally walks through the door, his lips curl into a predatory smile. He doesn't wave or call out - he simply watches her scan the room, eyes narrowing slightly when she doesn't immediately recognize him.

"Looking for someone?" His voice is deeper than the one she's heard through her phone speakers, rich with authority that sends an undeniable shiver down her spine.

As she approaches cautiously, he stands, moving with deliberate slowness to take her arm in a grip that's firm but not quite painful. "You came," he observes, his thumb brushing the inside of her wrist in a possessive gesture that borders on intimate.

Before she can respond, he pulls her closer, his mouth near her ear as he speaks in a low, dangerous whisper: "You shouldn't have trusted 'Michael'... but now you're here with me."