Martin reached the hotel's private lobby five minutes early and found Cassandra already waiting. She had flown in that afternoon after completing the company review that kept her from attending the concert.
She stood near the darkened windows in a fitted wine-red dress beneath a black coat. The dress ended below her knees, modest enough for a quiet evening yet shaped closely enough around her breasts, waist, and hips to make the lack of a business suit feel deliberate. Her long black hair fell loose instead of being gathered for work. Nothing in her hands resembled a tablet, folder, or schedule.
Cassandra turned when the lift closed behind him. Her crimson eyes traveled from his polished shoes to the open collar of his dark blue shirt.
"I recognize the effort," she said.
Martin adjusted the front of his jacket. "That sounds dangerously close to approval."
"Do not become complacent. I have only inspected the exterior."
