REDS
asha was snoring, out like a light, on the chaise in her office, snuggled, without a care in the world, safely cocooned inside an Egyptian cotton blanket with a thread count Red hadn’t known existed. Red rarely fantasized about wealth, but if Sasha’s riches could buy that kind of sleep, that kind of deep slumber, riding on the waves of a lullaby, the kissed sleep of well-loved, well-fed children, then maybe she was ready to inherit her parents’ money. Had she ever slept like that? Not without the help of at least two glasses of wine.
She spent the morning sitting at Sasha’s desk working on the iPad while the computer was being repaired, and her boss slept. She tallied and entered receipts into Sasha’s checking account ledger from her expenses for the last two weeks. Over one hundred
