Stuck in Friday traffic, sweat beads on my skin despite the AC's chill. Heat waves return, perfect for sheer outfits. Phone buzzes—Sylvie, my oldest friend, needs a waitress for her…
I slipped into Maître Aristide Lamprois's sanctum, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me. His notary office screamed old-world power: polished mahogany desk gleaming under chandelier light, leather armchair…
Our cliffside villa overlooks the glittering highway, floor-to-ceiling glass walls framing the endless asphalt below. Leather sofas sink under us, aged scotch burns smooth. Francis, my wife's lover, lounges in…