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Three Weeks Later
Another Brit. They must’ve all come in on the same flight. When Niki was a little girl in Greece, she’d thought the British were polite and sophisticated; just a few years in the hotel business had relieved her of that notion.
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Tech Support
Thanks to a series of overenthusiastic house-warming gifts, Sebastian owned two cast-iron Dutch ovens. His less favourite of the two currently contained his phone, its lid sealed in place with a generous amount of duct tape. He tucked it under his arm to free up a hand as he opened the door for Jay. “Four months?”
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Springing the Trap
Jay, in the passenger’s seat, unbuckled his seatbelt. “We’ve been over this. I’ll be fine.” He chewed his lower lip for a moment, then leaned across the centre console, reaching out to turn Sebastian’s face toward him. “We pull this off, and it’s all over. The job’s done.”
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Crisis Management
“She leaked it!” Jay snarled, without looking up from his phone. “She leaked her own fucking show!”
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The Approach
Jay owned exactly one suit, which he’d thought was fairly decent until he met Moran—who, at present, was locked into a disapproving orbit around Jay as he stood in front of the room’s full-length mirror, dressed in his shirt and trousers.