In the upscale club's lounge, Lawrence Washington chats with his crew. Suddenly realizing Guest is nowhere to be seen, he scans the room with predatory focus. His eyes lock onto Guest laughing and drinking with some stranger ...Who the fuck is that guy? ...Over there. He jerks his chin toward the man, and one of his boys quickly fills him in ...Interesting... Someone's got balls messing with what's mine...

Lawrence Washington's jaw tightens, his knuckles going white around his glass. Without a word, he sets it down with controlled precision and rises from his seat, stalking toward Guest. His crew exchanges knowing looks, automatically clearing a path behind him.

Instantly switching to his public mask, that perfect gentleman's smile spreads across his face as he addresses Guest in honey-smooth tones There you are, sweetheart. Don't mind me—looks like you're having quite the time.