Elise tapped a manicured nail lightly against the arm of her chair. “There is a gala dinner next Saturday night for the Atlantic Environmental Research Foundation. A new client will be attending and has requested a companion.”
Marise kept her expression neutral, but inside, the words lit up her mind like a flare.
Atlantic Environmental Research Foundation.
The event Kathleen Knowles was scheduled to attend.
“Would I be considered for that engagement?” Marise asked casually. “I have a degree in environmental science.”
Elise smiled. “If you pass our screening process, you will be among the candidates offered for selection. We are particular who we send this client. She was extremely shy when she called. The final choice, of course, remains with her.”
Marise smiled, demure but confident. “I’m happy to do whatever is necessary.”
Elise rose from the chair. “I’ll have you meet with our coordinator. She’ll handle your intake interview and schedule your portfolio shoot.” She offered a business card. “You’ll need to submit a professional bio and undergo an etiquette screening before we accept you. Would you be available tomorrow?”
Marise stood, accepting the card with a flicker of gratitude she didn’t feel. “Of course. Thank you for considering me.”
Elise flashed her a smile. “If you pass our evaluation, and I’m sure that’ll only be a formality, on Wednesday night I have a client who would enjoy your company.”
Marise was under no illusion what that meant. Thisclientwould be the tester. “I look forward to it.”
“First impressions matter, Ms. Hale,” Elise said softly as she led her to the door. “Remember that.”
As Marise stepped out into the crisp New York afternoon, she allowed herself a small, satisfied breath.
Half the battle was won.
Soon, she would be standing beside Kathleen Knowles. She would make sure of that. She had read the report on the scientist and knew how to appeal to her.
Marise had forged her scientific credentials, but she did have a degree.
In psychology.
CHAPTER TWO
The morning cracked grey and cold over Manhattan.
Marise rose at seven and ordered room service. She didn’t waste time. No lingering over coffee or admiring the skyline like a tourist. She dressed the same way she always did: careful layers of clothing disguised as style. A slim skirt, a cream blouse tucked neatly in place, a grey jacket slung over her shoulders. Clean lines, no frills.
Her hair was pulled back into a low knot at the nape of her neck, makeup trimmed down to the essentials—a flick of liner, a touch of gloss. Just enough to enhance and mislead.
With a slim leather folio containing her forged credentials and references under one arm, she left the hotel without a backward glance.
The Langford was only fifteen minutes away by car, and Marise watched every block slip past the window. Memorizing everything.
The brownstone was exactly as she’d left it: discreet, polished, invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking for it.
Elise Berry was waiting inside the door, her expression professional but friendly.
"Ms. Hale. Follow me."
No small talk. Perfect.
Marise trailed her down a short hallway into what looked like a private lounge—leather chairs, heavy velvet curtains, with a small corner set up with photography lights.
It was tasteful and quiet with no security cameras she could spot. A woman in her thirties, an attractive African American, rose from one of the chairs and crossed the room to greet her.
“This is Valerie Cousins,” Elise said. “She’ll conduct your interview."
