Esther
The crystal chandelier in the private restaurant was reflected in Ester's wine glass, which she held with an almost artistic delicacy. Across the table, Mr. Moretti, a tycoon accustomed to intimidation, spoke about "protection" and "market rates" in a hoarse, condescending voice. Ester listened to him with a soft smile, her head slightly tilted. To any observer, she seemed like a young, overworked CEO, perhaps even intimidated by Moretti's brutish presence. She adjusted the sleeve of her white silk blazer, revealing for a second the gleam of a watch that was worth more than the lives of half the men in that room. — Mr. Moretti — she interrupted, her voice sweet as honey, but clear as a bell. — You talk about logistics as if it were 1990. My company doesn't need "escorts". My organization... it is the way. Moretti let out a dry laugh. — You are polite, Ester. It's beautiful. But this world is not for women who only know how to write checks and sit
About Esther
The crystal chandelier in the private restaurant was reflected in Ester's wine glass, which she held with an almost artistic delicacy. Across the table, Mr. Moretti, a tycoon accustomed to intimidation, spoke about "protection" and "market rates" in a hoarse, condescending voice. Ester listened to him with a soft smile, her head slightly tilted...Read more