The door swung open the second Leonard's clipped "Come in" left his mouth—like the person on the other side had been hovering with their ear pressed to the wood.
Melisa didn't need to look up. The perfume hit first—something expensive and sweet with just enough bite to be annoying. Then came the heels: sharp, confident, a little too loud.
Ivonne.
Of course.
Melisa glanced up anyway. Might as well enjoy the show.
Ivonne strutted in like she owned the building, hips swaying, posture textbook-perfect. She wore a tailored white blouse and a black micro-mini tube skirt that screamed "look at me" in Helvetica Bold. Her legs were long, tanned, smooth—definitely moisturized with product Melisa didn't want to afford. Her blowout was fresh. And judging by her face, so was the attitude.
Her eyes found Melisa immediately.
Sharp. Displeased. Trying to hide the jealousy behind a thick layer of lip gloss and fake concern.
