hip.
“No...you’re just nosey,” Francine said.
“All right...that, too,” she agreed reluctantly. “By the way, have you started working on Felicia’s storage chest yet?”
“No, why?”
“I loved the sketch of it and I was hoping I could convince you to make me one, too,” Farrah said, giving her that cheeky smile she often used when she wanted something.
Francine laughed and shook her head. “Time to get back to business. I see you took your hair down,” Francine said, pointing at her sister’s head.
“Yeah, Meeks thought we shouldn’t confuse the client too much. Does Mr. Morgan know you’re part of a set of triplets?” Farrah asked sarcastically.
Francine laughed, picked up her phone and headed for the conference room attached to her office. “No, but what man you know wouldn’t want a couple of butt-kicking sisters in his life?”
As expected, Bill Morgan’s and Tiffany Tanner’s eyes grew wide as the sisters entered the room. Francine smiled and extended her hand to their guests, who had risen from their seats. “Mr. Morgan. Tiffany. Nice to see you again. This is my sister and business partner, Farrah Blake. Farrah’s our chief legal officer, and she ensures that your, as well as our, legal rights and responsibilities are well protected. And from time to time, as in this instance, we work together and act as case leads.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Farrah said as Mr. Morgan took the hand she offered and gave it a small shake.
“That’s great news,” Mr. Morgan said on a sigh.
“Oh, my,” Tiffany said, flashing looks between the two women. “You’re twins... Identical.”
“Not quite identical, and we’re actually two-thirds of a set of triplets. When we were born, our eyes were all the same shade of green. As we grew, the color changed. Now we all have different eye colors. Mine are blue,” Farrah explained, fluttering her lashes. “Francine’s stayed green, and our baby sister Felicia has hazel eyes.”
“Wow. Does your other sister work here, too?” Tiffany asked as she took a seat at the end of the table closest to both the window and the door.
“No, she works in another industry. She’s a doctor, actually,” Francine said proudly. “I really don’t think our clients could take all of us working here.”
“Or our staff, for that matter,” Farrah added.
“It must be nice to have two other people in the world that you can depend on no matter what,” Tiffany said, sliding down farther into the chair, her wistful tone speaking more to the loneliness she felt at being an only child than any actual jealousy she had toward the sisters’ relationship. The twenty-one-year-old beauty pulled out her cell phone and began tapping her index finger on the screen as though she was suddenly disinterested in what was happening around her.
Francine and Farrah gave each other a knowing glance.
“Please sit,” Francine said to Mr. Morgan, who focused his blue-eyed gaze on his client. “This shouldn’t take very long. I just have a few follow-up questions for you.”
“No problem...whatever you need,” Mr. Morgan replied, taking a seat next to Tiffany. “We’re just happy you’ll be handling this case yourself.”
Bill Morgan had been a family friend and attorney to the Tanner family for years. He’d played a significant role in helping the Tanners nurture Tiffany’s career. In fact, he’d become Tiffany’s legal guardian and business manager after her parents were killed in a tragic boating accident when she was twelve. By all accounts, at the time, the recently divorced thirty-two-year-old had been an excellent father figure for the shell-shocked child and a stern guiding hand during those highly publicized and turbulent adolescent years. When Tiffany turned twenty-one, she took control of her career and gained access to a multimillion-dollar fortune that her parents had left her. By the looks of things, Tiffany and Mr. Morgan were still adjusting to their new relationship.
“I see Kelly has taken care of you already,” Francine said, gesturing to the water and coffee that had been provided. “Would you like anything else? A refill?”
“No, thanks. We’re fine,” Mr. Morgan replied after checking with Tiffany, who signaled her disinterest with a wave of her hand.
Francine cracked open her tablet. “All right then, let’s get started. We checked out—”
“I have to know,” Farrah said with a quick glance that silenced Francine. “Why us? What made you decide to pick Blake & Montgomery to replace your old security firm?”
Mr. Morgan’s jaw was clenched but relaxed before he answered. “According to our reports, you’re the best firm in the country. Especially when it comes to dealing with personal security,” he explained.
“As you know, Tiffany is the biggest celebrity client we’ve ever agreed to manage. While we’ve assisted other agencies with their celebrity client base, Tiffany will be the first we’ve agreed to handle exclusively.”
“You’ve made that perfectly clear, and as I said before, your company’s reputation in international security rivals no other. We’re honored to be your first official celebrity client,” he said with a slight nod and a curve of his lip.
“Then why didn’t you come to us in the first place? It’s not like you knew for sure we didn’t cater to celebrities at that time. There’s always an exception to every rule,” Farrah asked.
“Farrah!” Francine warned.
“It’s okay,” Tiffany defended, waving off Francine’s concern with a flip of her diamond-studded hand and a wide smile. “The other company came highly recommended from a reputable source,” she explained with a look at both Francine and Farrah.
“So why the change?” Farrah pressed.
“We thought it would be nice if there were more female agents around,” Mr. Morgan said before Tiffany could answer.
“Female agents...what are we missing?” Farrah continued to question.
Mr. Morgan looked at Tiffany, who was putting her phone into her Prada bag. Before he could say anything, Tiffany sat up in her chair, pushed a wayward strand of blond hair behind her ear and said, “I have a stalker.”
“Okay. Any firm can deal with that,” Farrah said with a small frown and a slight tilt of her head.
“He was a part of my security detail,” she added.
“We think he might have been a part of the security team,” Mr. Morgan corrected. He was clearly not convinced, and he gave Tiffany’s hand a small, condescending pat. “We don’t know for sure.”
“Why do you think that? I mean you’ve had the same team for two years, and they’re all good men,” she said, shaking her head. “We’ve checked them out.”
Tiffany
