As Christopher stepped outside to take the call, the brisk night air met his face, carrying the faint scent of expensive cigars and spilled whiskey from the party inside.
His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings instinctively, ensuring Vivian was still safe within sight before lighting his own cigar.
The orange ember flared to life as he took a long drag, the thick smoke curling in the cold air. His free hand pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his sharp features as he answered.
“Clinton,” he said, his deep, husky voice cutting through the night. “I don’t have time for excuses. Speak fast.”
On the other end, Clinton sounded frantic. “The papers aren’t in his office, Christopher. I’ve searched everywhere—drawers, cabinets, even the damn floorboards. There’s nothing here!”
Ch
