I roll my eyes. “You’re getting to be as paranoid as Daniil. I got a call from his personal secretary. She’s the most Swiss-sounding person I’ve ever encountered in my life. It’s legit.”
“Don’t ‘Kinsley’ me. I’ve got to go. Can’t be late. Give Isla a kiss for me!” Then I bolt out of there before he can delay me any further.
I manage to hail a cab reasonably fast and I get to the Garden Club just barely on time. I sigh with relief, pay the driver, and stride towards the entrance of the stately Garden Club.
It’s beautiful in that over-the-top, old grandeur kind of way that Switzerland does so well. I imagine libraries full of old men in leather wingback armchairs, sipping expensive brandy and smoking expensive cigars and discussing continental philosophy.
The woman at the reception gives
