"Make it a double tonight, Leo," she replied, her voice a soft, resonant velvet. "I’ve spent the afternoon arguing with contractors, and I think I’ve earned it."
Jo Ventura adjusted the hem of her silk dress, the fabric catching the low amber light of the jazz club. In a city that never stopped talking, Jo had learned that her silence was her greatest power. She wasn’t just another face in the crowd; she was a woman who had built herself from the ground up, piece by deliberate piece.
"The usual, Jo?" the bartender asked, already reaching for the gin.