ANGEL
Dr Moreau’s office smelled like chamomile tea.
I hated it even before my ass touched the chair.
The woman was exactly what I expected. Her dark hair was pinned into a strict bun, her reading glasses dangling on her nose. She was wearing a silk blouse that was buttoned all the way to her throat.
And she was curvy. This was the very first thing I clocked and it pissed me off immediately.
Her breasts were huge, pushing against the silk of her blouse like they were trying to escape.
Her pencil skirt did nothing to hide the width of her hips.
I could see so many similarities between her and Jillian.
They had the same body. That soft polished femininity that I could never possess. She was obviously the type of woman that Vincent would like.
Jillian was gone, Vincent had told
