TANISHA
Christof still liked his mornings a certain way, that much hadn’t changed. I pulled into the circular driveway of his estate at exactly 7:12 a.m., not a minute earlier, not a minute later. The guards waved me through with the same neutral faces, one of them looked twice, like he wasn’t sure if I still belonged on the list. I wasn’t sure either.
I killed the engine and sat there for half a second longer than necessary. I wasn’t exactly eager to be back to work, I wished I could get paid without having to show up. Unfortunately, that would probably require some very strong voodoo.
Christof was already outside when I stepped out of my car, coat crisp, coffee untouched, irritation radiating off him.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I’m not,” I replied calmly. “It’s 7:13 A.M. The drive to
