The moment she found some semblance of focus, her secretary, Marji, peered through Zhané’s open office door. Her deep blue eyes matched the lapis colored blouse that was fastened at her neck to the top button. “Sorry to interrupt,” Marji announced, “but you have a visitor.” “Damn,” Zhané stood and cursed under her breath. “Is the client here already? He’s early.” “Nope.” Marji shook her head, causing her long, blonde ponytail to sway in response. “This visitor doesn’t look like any client we ever had.” Marji left the room, and Zhané looked up to see a handsome, Hispanic man stroll into her office. Within the few seconds it took for Zhané to scan the man’s deeply tanned skin, jet-black hair, and tailored gray suit, he’d crossed the short distance from the door to her desk and extended his hand. “Ramon Aiello,” he smiled, flashing what had to be thirty-two pearly white teeth. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I heard you got sidetracked looking for me a few weeks ago.”
