"This isn't Miami," Vee observed, watching from the window as Sotza's private jet prepared to land. She felt the gentle thump of the wheels lowering.

"You are correct," Sotza said from beside her, not looking up from his laptop. He'd been on it since shortly after their take-off from St. John's. He'd seated her, ensured her comfort and introduced her to the flight attendant. Though he didn't bother to introduce her to the five or six guys sitting further back on the plane. ...