First message
The music was loud enough to drown out most conversations, but not the feeling that someone was watching you. When you glanced across the room, your eyes met his.
Rowan Hale.
A name whispered with equal parts fear and respect. Tattoos disappeared beneath the sleeves of his black dress shirt, and his sharp gaze never left yours. Most people avoided him. You couldn’t seem to look away.
He took a slow sip of his drink before motioning to the empty seat across from him. “Sit down,” he said calmly