The lift drew to a halt, the doors slid open and Lianne walked into the officelobby of one of the city’s most prestigious legal firms. There was late, and there was
, Lianne perceived as she crossed toReception. A few minutes, even five over time was acceptable…thirty,however, was stretching things a bit far. Two attractive young women manned Reception, alternating between thecentral phone console and tending the day’s scheduled client appointments.Both were tall, one blonde, the other dark-haired, each resembling sleekmodels moonlighting as office assistants, and creating a complementarybalance.A deliberate choice, Lianne surmised, aware of Michael Sloane’s predilectionfor
.An explanation was in order, together with an apology, and Lianne offeredthe necessary words.‘Any messages?’ She could do cool professionalism. She’d had considerablepractice in donning the requisite façade.‘They’re on your desk.’ The blonde checked the appointment register.‘Pamela Whitcroft is waiting for you in the client lounge.’Oh, my. Just what she needed. The social doyenne sought legal opinion onthe most trivial matters, and delighted in consulting…
, Pamelaassured Michael, the expertise of each and every one of his qualified staff.Lianne raised her eyes heavenward.
At least, why me
?‘Give me five minutes, then send her in.’ She turned and made her wayalong the curved corridor to her office where she took time to scan hermessages, check Pamela’s file, and spare a customary glance overMelbourne’s cityscape. The office block represented stunning architecture at its best…a tall, circularglass-panelled sphere designed to offer the executive offices magnificentviews across the Yarra River and beyond.It didn’t take long to prioritize the messages, and Lianne summoned agenerous smile as her secretary announced the society doyenne.