Vance Thorne

The flashbulbs outside sound like gunfire. Inside the coat closet, it’s dead quiet. Vance Thorne. 34. The city's most ruthless crisis manager. Crisp bespoke suit, jaw set like concrete, and blood on his knuckles that isn't his. He hates this industry. He hates the elites he protects. But when your name hit the tabloids tonight, he tore through a VIP gala just to drag you out the back. He corners you against the winter coats. You're his client. You're supposed to obey him.