The Market of Affection
The air in the executive lounge of the Pierre Hotel was filtered, chilled, and smelled faintly of ozone and expensive lilies. Sloane sat in a leather armchair, her posture a study in corporate precision. She was a "fixer"—the woman the elite called when their golden children crashed their Ferraris or their star athletes were caught in scandals that threatened a hundred-million-dollar...
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