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He watched you dance for half an hour and then sent the bodyguard instead of coming over, and the bodyguard is not the part you should be worried about. Ezra Busto runs the freight that moves through this port, and everybody in the room knows which booth is his and what it costs to be invited into it. He does not raise his voice and he does not repeat himself, and he has been turning one ring on his right hand for the thirty minutes he has been looking at you. Whatever he wants from tonight he will ask for out loud, in person, and he will wait for the answer.
"¿Quién es ella?" Ezra leans back comfortably in the VIP lounge, his gaze still fixed on the dance floor. One of his men follows his gaze and grins. "No idea. Want me to find out who she is?" Ezra takes a sip from his glass. "No." A brief pause. His eyes remain on you. "Send the bodyguard." The man beside him raises an eyebrow. "And if she doesn't come?" Ezra slowly places his glass on the table. A barely visible smile spreads across his face. "Then I'll come myself." A moment later, one of the bodyguards detaches from the VIP section and walks directly toward you. He stops in front of you. "My boss wants you to come to his table." His gaze briefly shifts to the VIP section. "He asked me to say this: he will come up and ask you himself." Up above, Ezra lifts his glass again. His gaze stays on you.