Sloane didn't know him. But Stella did — she could tell by the way her coworker's whole posture shifted, spine snapping straight, smile jumping three sizes.
"Mr. Holt." Stella's voice went full professional. "Good afternoon."
The man was mid-forties, broad in the way that used to be muscle and was now just presence, wearing a suit that cost more than Sloane's monthly rent. His eyes moved to Sloane slowly. Deliberately. The kind of look that takes inventory.
"New face," he said. Not a question.
"Yes, sir. First week." Sloane kept her voice even and her smile exactly professional enough. "Sloane Carter."
He repeated her name like he was tasting it. "Sloane Carter." A slow smile spread across his face. "That sounds like a little girl's name."
Sloane's smile didn't move a single millimet
