Minimal metal.
Maximum light.
She smiled faintly.
Behind her, heels clicked.
Fast.
Purposeful.
Victoria did not turn immediately.
She already knew the gait.
Manager.
People who had authority in luxury retail often learned a particular stride.
Not rushing exactly.
Announcing arrival.
The woman stopped beside her.
“Excuse me.”
Victoria looked over.
Blonde.
Late forties.
Ivory suit.
Pearl earrings.
Perfect posture.
Name badge:
CLAIRE MORGAN — FLAGSHIP DIRECTOR
Victoria knew the name.
Of course she did.
Claire Morgan had managed Beverly Hills for eleven months.
Before that, Chicago.
Strong sales.
Low employee turnover on paper.
Exceptional premium-client retention.
Customer complaints below regional average.
A favorite among several board members.
Victoria had never met her in person.
Interesting.
“Yes?” Victoria asked.
Claire’s eyes moved over her.
Coat.
Necklace.
Shoes.
Handbag.
Not subtle.
Victoria noticed.
Claire smiled professionally.
“May I ask who assisted you?”
“No one yet.”
A pause.
Very small.
Very telling.
“You’ve been here several minutes?”
“About four.”
Claire looked toward the floor.
Her expression tightened.
Not because Victoria had been ignored.
Because somebody might be blamed.
Victoria recognized the difference.
Claire turned back.
“Are you here for an appointment?”
“No.”
Another tiny pause.
Victoria almost admired how quickly Claire’s face recalculated.
Appointment clients mattered more.
Walk-ins were probabilistic.
Not company policy.
But clearly store culture.
Claire said, “The Solstice collection is currently restricted to private viewings.”
Victoria looked at the display.
“I’m only looking.”
“Of course.”
But Claire did not move away.
Victoria glanced toward her.
“Is looking also restricted?”
Claire laughed lightly.
Not warmth.
Correction disguised as charm.
“Not at all. We simply take extra precautions around unreleased pieces.”
Victoria nodded.
“Understandable.”
Claire’s eyes dropped to Victoria’s handbag.
Small.
Black.
Structured.
Handmade in Milan.
Cost more than Claire’s suit.
But that was not the point.
Victoria watched the manager’s eyes.
Something was already happening behind them.
Calculation.
Suspicion.
Comparison.
Claire asked, “Did someone give you access to the private gallery?”
“I walked in from the main floor.”
“This section should have been roped.”
“It wasn’t.”
Claire looked past her.
A sales associate quickly lowered her head.
Another note.
Blame traveled downward fast here.
Victoria turned back to the necklace.
“I’d like to see the craftsmanship more closely.”
Claire stared.
“You’d like to try it on?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I’d like the case opened so I can examine the setting.”
Claire’s expression changed.
Barely.
But enough.
“Are you a jeweler?”
Victoria smiled.
“Something like that.”
The wrong answer.
Claire’s posture became more rigid.
Victoria could almost hear the invisible doors closing.