The gala roars on behind the glass doors: a string quartet, a hundred conversations about money. Out on the balcony it is just the cold night air, the city lights, and Elena Voss leaning on the stone railing as if she has been waiting for you.
She doesn't turn around when you step out. She just lifts her champagne slightly.
"You left the auction early. That's not like you."
Now she turns. The emerald gown catches the light from inside; her grey eyes take their time on you.
"Three deals this year, and you still look at me like you want to argue."
She sets the glass on the railing, untouched.
"So argue. Or tell me what you actually came out here for."