-MIA-
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," I said as I stepped into the large meeting room in our department.
Monica, our director, said a socialite was considering a six-figure donation to my new project, "The Christmas Present". She didn’t know much, just that I needed to be there.
The woman stood by the window, gazing down at the city like a Greek goddess surveying mortals from Olympus.
She wore a light brown blazer and loose slacks, a Birkin bag dangling from one arm. Her expression shifted as she turned toward me, her lips curling in something close to revulsion.
She was beautiful—late forties, maybe fifties, hard to tell. There’d been work done. Shoulder-length light brown hair, high cheekbones, lips sculpted with fillers. Large dark sunglasses perched on her nose.
I’d dealt with m
