The very small woman smiled with her lips closed, taking off her gloves and handing them to her aide. Eyes on me, she reached up and removed her white hat, handing it and her white leather clutch purse to the woman as well. Heels clacking on the hardwood floor, she came forward. She was wearing a tasteful white suit that looked businesslike without hiding the curves of her small but well-proportioned body. Her feet were tiny. Though in her mid-fifties, I guessed, she clearly took care of herself, being trim and poised. Styled short and off her face, her blond hair had streaks of gray, but that only added to her professionalism. A string of pearls was about her neck, and she wore a diamond ring with enough sparkle to dance the Hustle by.

“Ms. Morgan,” she said as she approached, her entourage fanning out to make me wary. “It’s good to see you again. But honestly, dear, we could have met at my office or perhaps Carew Tower if you felt more comfortable in a neutral setting.” She glanced quickly over the room, her nose wrinkling. “Though this has a certain rustic charm.”

I didn’t think she meant it as a slur, so I didn’t take it that way. With David at my shoulder and Jenks sitting on it, I came forward to take her extended hand. My arm had been in a sling the last time we’d met, and I shook her hand, pleased to find her grip firm and sincere.

“Mrs. Sarong,” I said, feeling tall and awkward in my leather since I stood almost eight inches over her. “I’d like you to meet David Hue, my alpha.”

Her smile widened. “Pleasure,” she said, inclining her head to David, who did the same in return. “Taking a witch as your alpha female to start a pack with?” Her eyebrows went up, and her eyes, untouched by age, glinted. “Wonderful way to play the rules, Mr. Hue. I have since plugged that particular gap in my employee handbook, but wonderful nonetheless.”

“Thank you,” he said gracefully, taking a step back and removing himself from the conversation, but not the meeting.

Mrs. Sarong held out her hand to her aide, and the woman took it, letting herself be drawn forward. “This is my daughter, Patricia,” the older woman said, surprising me. “Since the unfortunate demise of my aide, she will be shadowing me for the next year to gain a better understanding of whom I deal with on a daily basis.”

My eyebrows rose, and I stifled my surprise. Aide? The young woman before me wasn’t Mrs. Sarong’s aide but her freaking heir. “It is a true pleasure,” I said earnestly, shaking her hand.