Angelsummerstyna Enquetestresprivees | Leclienttimide !!hot!!

"We are Très Privées ," Angel replied, her tone neutral. "Discretion is our product. What you buy here is silence, Monsieur Dubois. The investigation is merely a bonus."

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The door creaked open. A man stepped in, then seemed to regret it. He was in his early thirties, wearing a plain gray jacket two sizes too big, as if he wanted to disappear inside it. His eyes darted to the window, then to the floor, then to her. "We are Très Privées ," Angel replied, her tone neutral

Inside was a photograph. It was blurry, taken from a distance, likely by a passerby. It showed a bench in the Jardin du Luxembourg. A woman in a yellow hat sat there, laughing. Beside her sat a man in a flat cap. He was holding her hand. Between them lay a small stack of sheet music. The investigation is merely a bonus

Henri looked at the paper as if it were a loaded weapon. "I cannot... I cannot just knock on her door."

For the next two weeks, Angel Summerstyna became a ghost in the Jardin du Luxembourg.