HE GAVE MY PLACE TO HIS MISTRESS. OUR SON GAVE ME THE COMPANY

ten minutes before dinner.

He wore a tuxedo with an old-fashioned peak lapel. The scar across his hand caught the chandelier light when he offered it to me.

“You look dangerous,” he said.

“I was told that was your type.”

“My type is more specific.”

“And what is that?”

“Women who restructure eight hundred million dollars in secured debt before breakfast.”

“That continue reading …