The receptionist nodded, picked up a phone, said something in a soft, low voice, and nodded again.
“Ms. Francesco will see you now,” she told Tony. “Down the hall to your right.”
“Thanks,” Tony said. He navigated his way down a stub of a hallway, gave a brief knock and was admitted to a red-carpeted office. The woman who stood before him was elegant and stern. She had iron-gray hair and wore enough makeup to pass for late 40s, though she had to be several years older. Her earrings – a pair of silver daggers – were large without being gaudy. Her eyes were very dark.
“Mr. Lang,” she said, pushing her lips into a genial smile.
“Mrs. Valence,” Tony replied.
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