It got worse before the end of the day.
Julian had spent the morning getting his locks changed and talking to lawyers—again—about ending his manager contract with Uncle Eddie. A growling stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten all day, and he was just pulling a protein shake out of the fridge when a buzz sounded through the doorman’s intercom.
“Mr. Gault, you have a visitor. Says her name is…Svetlana?” He struggled slightly with the Russian name.
The sick feeling in his stomach came back with a vengeance. Why was Svetlana here, now? They always set up their meetings days in advance. “Let her up,” he told the doorman, and started gulping the protein shake, hoping to get it down while he still had an appetite.
He heard the elevator open, and Svetlana’s accented voice, hoarse and shaky with
