The car pulled into a discreet side entrance off Oakvale Street, where a valet opened Sophie’s door before she could even ask where they were. Camellia had said “casual drinks, just us,” but nothing about the velvet ropes, the valet, or the luxury private lounge known as The Aubrey Room.

Sophie stepped out slowly, her heels clicking against the stone driveway. The building was sleek and understated, designed to look like an extension of a high-end art gallery. Camellia was already waiting by the glass doors, dressed in a flowing coral wrap dress and wearing a smile that gave absolutely nothing away.

“You’re up to something,” Sophie said, narrowing her...