I collapsed onto the bed in my guest suite, loosening my tie with a long exhale. My whole body felt like I'd just gone twelve rounds with a heavyweight champion, even though all I'd done was eat dinner and answer questions.
That was Camille Valentine? The woman made sharks look cuddly.
For two hours, I'd sat at that table playing verbal chess with a woman who could probably buy the country of Liechtenstein with her quarterly bonus. Every question she asked had three meanings. Every answer I gave was scrutinized like evidence at a murder trial. And when she smiled? That wasn't happiness. That was a predator showing teeth.
Now I understood where the Valentine sisters got their... unique personalities from. Vivienne's razor-sharp perfectionism. Cassidy's explosive defensiveness. Harlow's manic need to please. And Sabrina's cryptic, unnerving watchfulness.
Speaking of Sabrina.
