She laughed—sharp, genuine. Then she dropped the bomb: “He’s flying to Cabo tomorrow with a woman named Kiki. Twenty-three years old. Works at his Miami office. I want to destroy him, and I think you want to help.”
That’s when she said the line that still gives me chills: “I want you to answer the phone when the cheating blonde wife calls.” Valentino Roca Cheating Blonde Wife Calls Me to...
“This is enough for a lawyer,” I said. She laughed—sharp, genuine
Silence. Then, the sound of a glass breaking. Sloane laughed—a real, free laugh I’d never heard before. “He just threw his espresso across the conference table,” she yelled toward the phone. “Valentino Roca, meet the man you should never have crossed.” Works at his Miami office
When I arrived at the hotel, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, mascara streaked. A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc stood open, half-empty. She wore a cream silk robe. No ring.
“I don’t hate him,” I lied. “I just think his private jet carbon footprint could power a small country.”