The restaurant was called Ivory and Gold.
It sat on the upper floor of a glass-walled building in River North, overlooking the Chicago skyline. The interior was dim but deliberate, with warm amber lighting reflecting off polished marble floors and dark wood paneling.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city lights, while soft jazz drifted through the air, low enough to preserve the privacy of every conversation.
Tables were spaced generously, dressed in crisp white linen, each set with minimalist silverware and a single candle at the center. The staff moved quietly, catering to a clientele that valued discretion over noise.
Sofia was already seated.
She wore a fitted black midi dress that hugged her frame cleanly without excess, the neckline modest yet flattering.
A light beige coat rested neatly over the back of her chair. Her hair fell naturally over her shoulders in soft waves, parted slightly to one side.
