Haggling In Driftmark Station

The hundreds of staring alien eyes didn't rattle Elena Sterling in the slightest.

If anything, the sudden hush settling over the Grand Bazaar put her back on solid ground. 

Since she was old enough to wear heels, she'd walked into corporate galas, ballrooms and industrial bidding floors where every gaze in the room turned to follow her. 

…Whether the spectators were board members in tailored silk or two-and-a-half-meter Vorn in green armor plating, an audience was an audience, and an audience on a trade floor existed for exactly one purpose. 

It was there to be taken apart and relieved of its money.

The knot in her stomach dissolved. 

She stepped past Leo with an effortless glide, her honey-blonde hair gleaming under the amber lanterns and her chin lifted at precisely three degrees of supreme indifference.