10“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—look!” said a young woman in a mini-dress. So Molly looked.
Pausing in the wide doorway was a heart-stoppingly gorgeous woman, her chin lifted slightly as she surveyed the crowd. Her glossy blonde hair spilled over her shoulder in artful waves, her darkened eyebrows framed her exotic eyes, and her full lips were a sensuous red. But more than beauty, this woman had it: the kind of charisma that stopped a room dead. The music kept pounding but no one moved. All the faces in the crowd had turned to the doorway, mesmerized by the tall woman dressed simply in a silk shirt and dark, fitted trousers.
“That’s…who is that?” Molly asked.
“Esmé Ridding,” said the woman, looking at Molly as though she were mentally challenged. “Are you kidding me? The face of Chan
