The first thing Richard Voss noticed about the woman walking toward his private jet was her coat.
It was emerald green, floor-length, and unmistakably expensive. The thick fur caught the industrial lights as she crossed the polished concrete floor, her black thigh-high boots clicking steadily against the hangar surface. Long, perfectly straight black hair framed her face, while oversized rectangular sunglasses concealed her eyes. Gold hoop earrings reflected the light whenever she moved her head.
She looked as though she belonged somewhere between a luxury fashion campaign and the entrance of a billionaire's private estate.
But Richard did not see a billionaire.
He saw an inconvenience.
He stood beside a gray rolling tool cart with three other executives, holding a tablet and discussing the final preparations for what he believed would become the largest aircraft transaction in his company's history.
Behind him, a magnificent white private jet rested inside the enormous hangar. Its gold and brown stripes ran elegantly along the fuselage, and its cabin door stood open. The aircraft was one of fourteen business jets scheduled to be included in a fleet agreement worth seven hundred and seventy million dollars.
Seven hundred and seventy million.
Richard had spent the last six months pursuing the deal. He had attended private dinners, flown across three states, negotiated with attorneys, and endured endless financial reviews. His company, Sterling Aerospace Group, desperately needed the agreement.
The money would rescue its struggling operations, satisfy several major creditors, and secure its position in the American private aviation market for another decade.
The prospective buyer had been described as extraordinarily wealthy, unusually private, and unwilling to participate in unnecessary publicity.
All Richard knew was that the buyer operated through an investment company called Northstar Aviation Holdings.
The negotiations had been handled almost entirely through lawyers and financial representatives.
He had never met the actual decision-maker.
And now, apparently, someone had wandered into his hangar wearing a green fur coat.
Richard glanced at his colleague, Martin Hale, who stood beside him in a black suit.
"Is she with the catering team?"
Martin looked toward the woman.
"I don't think so."
"Then whose guest is she?"
Neither man knew.
The woman continued walking, completely ignoring their conversation.
Richard stepped forward.
"Excuse me."
She did not immediately stop.
"Ma'am."
This time, she turned slightly.
Richard adjusted his tie and gave her a practiced smile.
"The showroom tour is for invited buyers. You're in the wrong hangar."
The woman stopped.
For a moment, she simply looked at him through her sunglasses.
There was no embarrassment in her expression. No nervousness. No attempt to explain herself.
She slowly reached up with her right hand and lowered the sunglasses.
Her eyes were dark, steady, and remarkably calm.
"I'm here for the fleet agreement."
Richard stared at her.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly at first. Just a short, disbelieving sound that quickly developed into an arrogant smile.
Martin joined him.
Richard looked at her coat, her handbag, her boots, and finally her face.
"The fleet agreement?"
"That's what I said."
He tilted his head.
"Seven hundred and seventy million dollars?"
"Correct."
Richard gave a small shake of his head.
"Seven hundred and seventy million dollars doesn't appear because someone dresses expensive."
The words echoed through the hangar.
A mechanic working near the aircraft's landing gear stopped what he was doing.
The woman did not respond immediately.
Instead, she studied Richard for several seconds, as though deciding whether he was worth another moment of her time.
"My name is Naomi Brooks," she finally said.
Richard's smile barely changed.
"Congratulations."
"I'm the representative you have been expecting."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Then perhaps you should have brought someone from the executive office to identify you."
Naomi glanced toward the open aircraft door.
"I don't need an escort to attend a meeting I scheduled."
Richard's expression hardened.
He turned toward a security guard standing near the hangar entrance.
"Daniel."
The guard immediately approached.
"Sir?"
"Can you check whether this woman is authorized to be here?"
Daniel looked at Naomi.
"Ma'am, may I see your identification?"
She reached into her handbag and removed a black leather identification holder.
Before she could open it, Richard interrupted.
"Actually, there's no need. Just escort her outside. We're expecting the real buyer."
Naomi looked at him.
"The real buyer?"
Richard made a dismissive gesture.
"You heard me."
Daniel hesitated.
"Mr. Voss, perhaps we should—"
"Do your job."
The guard stepped closer and grabbed Naomi's right arm.
It was a mistake.
Naomi immediately pulled herself free.
"Don't touch me."
Her voice was not particularly loud, but it carried through the hangar with enough authority to make Daniel stop.
She looked directly at him.
"Tell him to take his hand off me."
Daniel stepped backward.
"Sorry, ma'am."
Naomi placed her black leather handbag and tablet folder on the polished concrete floor.
The folder landed with a soft thud.
Richard watched her movements with growing irritation.
"What's this supposed to be?"
Naomi straightened.
"Documentation."
"For what?"
"The transaction."
Richard laughed again.
Martin shook his head.
A fourth executive, a balding man named Peter Caldwell, had now joined them.