Finley ruffled her mink coat and tossed her Chopard Grey glasses on the marble entry table. Finley wasn’t careless; she just wanted everyone to know that the six hundred dollars she’d spent to shield her eyes from the sun didn’t concern her—never mind they would likely be knocked off a leased yacht into the South China Sea the next week.

She turned her diamond nose ring one-quarter turn counter-clockwise, and then popped a mint into her mouth. “I’m going to have to charter from now on. Even first-class has become filthy. And the airports … ugh.”

Marco, filling out his charcoal Henley like a Banana Republic model, set their luggage down in the foyer, greeting Maricela and José in Portuguese when they came to collect the bags.

“They speak Spanish, Marco,” I deadpanned.

Marco took off his glasses, grinning at me like he knew a story or five he would tell me later, in front of Finley, when we were all drunk. “It’s close enough.”

I glared at Finley. “You brought him,” I said in an accusatory voice.

“He’s staying in a hotel,” Finley said, barely noticing that Marco was removing her coat. He bent down to untie her fluffy snow boots.

I cringed. “Stop. Marco, stop. Right now.”

Marco slipped off her second boot and set them perfectly side by side, standing up and waiting with want in his eyes—not the sort of desire a woman my age would want an exotic, gorgeous man like Marco to have. He was waiting to oblige me, please me, take care of any need I had, and not for me—for Finley. He didn’t simply take pride in indulging his employer and anyone who surrounded her—it was his obsession. Appeasing Finley and her entourage at once was his specialty, and he loved to show off his talents.

“Could I just,” he began, reaching for her bags.

“No, no you can’t,” I said, slapping his hands away. “Take your luggage and find your hotel. Finley will be able to breathe for herself this week.”

Marco fidgeted, unsure how to grant my demand.

Finley smiled at him with feigned patience. “It’s fine, Marco. Go on. Enjoy your vacation.”

He nodded a few times, both confident and unsure, clearly unsettled at leaving Finley to her own devices for more than a few minutes.

Marco kissed her hand. “Should you need anything, Miss Edson, I’ll be here within ten minutes.”

She pulled away slowly, waving him away, indifferent to his charm.

Marco looked borderline devastated as he collected his baggage and closed the door behind him.

I sighed. “That shit is getting out of hand.”

She smirked, walking the few steps to hug me tight. “You’re just jealous.”

I squeezed her once, and then pulled away. “Does he wipe your ass? Only then would I be jealous.”