“Punctual as always, Jackson.” Tall, slim, sheathed in a black turtleneck and long black skirt, her black stilettos tapping, copper-skinned Janine Traleski beamed over the receptionist’s shoulder, her ruddy hair piled artlessly high in somewhat-planned disarray to balance the severity of her outfit. Tiny silver hoops glittered at her ears, and her nails were matte crimson—it was Amelia’s trick, showing control of the change.
The receptionist was the same blond tennis star she’d had last summer; the boy was athletic as well as discreet and thoroughly capable—for a skin, at least. He seemed in no hurry to move on just yet, which suited his employer almost perfectly. Good help that knew when to keep its mouth shut was precious indeed, and even though this fellow had no idea his boss wasn’t s
