Lisa Torres had lost weight since Jim had last seen her, her once-lush curves whittled down to sharp angles that matched the knife-edge of her perpetual anger. She was the human equivalent of a paper cut—deceptively small but capable of delivering disproportionate pain.
"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" she said before Jim could even formulate a greeting. "Had to come crawling back for another taste of the spotlight."
"Lisa," Jim acknowledged, instinctively taking a step back, creating space between himself and what experience had taught him would be an emotional ambush. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Clearly," she bit out. "Too busy with your perfect new life to remember the wreckage you left behind. The 'tribute' to Sphinx was a nice touch, though. Very PR-friendly."
The
