“We are almost there. Clara is waiting for us.” She presses a button on the door when we reach it and it opens and we enter and there stands a very gorgeous, tall brunette, probably in her late twenties or early thirties.

On seeing us, she smiles and walks toward us, embracing Paris in a friendly gesture and she pulls back to look at me. Her eyes scan me from head to toes in half displeasure and half careless manner. Not that I don’t expect such treatment from people in her class, though.

“Clara, meet Taylor, my Personal assistant and a good friend.”

Straightway, as she says friend, Clara smiles...