“Make an appointment like everyone else. Get out of my home.”
Rodin looked around, aware of her following his gaze. “Your home? Who pays for it?”
“None of your business.”
Her voice was steady, and Rodin guessed she had some experience of clients turning nasty. She held the blade with confidence, and he thought it likely she knew how to use it.
He opened his arms, palms out, then deliberately placed them on the arms of the chair. “I have no weapons in my hands. I repeat, I don’t want to hurt you. I want to talk. And I don’t mean some comforting mumbo-jumbo like your clients get.”
She looked him over, head to foot. “You have weapons.”
He nodded. There was no point denying it. “But they are going to remain concealed. Sit down. Keep hold of the blade, by all means.” He waved to the chair
