The bathroom on the fourteenth floor had excellent acoustics and this was not a design feature but a failure of architecture that worked out very well for two women who had forgotten that spaces could have ears.
Seraphina was already in a stall. She went very still.
"I still don't understand how she got the position."
"I mean." The sound of a bag hitting the marble counter. "She was literally on the street and then she's Roman Carter's personal secretary inside a month, in his house. How does that happen?"
"She might just be good at the job."
A laugh, not cruel exactly but performing a skepticism it had decided in advance. "She might be. Doesn't change the math. Men like Roman Carter don't take people in out of the goodness of their hearts."
"You think she's..."
"I think she knew what she was doing when she showed up at his door. Twenty-two, nowhere to go, helpless. He's forty-five and he's never been with anyone serious. You tell me."
