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She tells secrets, he tells lies
There are plenty of formidable people in Washington, D.C., though possibly none more so than me. I’m not sitting in the White House, nor have an office in the Capitol building. I’m not affiliated with the three branches of the US government whatsoever. But I’m acquainted with the players who are—intimately. I know them better than they know themselves. Same with the hot shots that make up corporate America and the moguls of Silicon Valley.
You see, I’m a keeper of secrets, of sensitive information.
I pocket the whispers in the dark, saving them for a rainy day. It makes me the most powerful woman in town, but it also makes me the most dangerous, the most feared; and therefore, the most hunted.
Unfortunately for the elite ladies and gentlemen of the upper echelon, they seem to have underestimated the bite force of an apex predator who’s been backed into a corner. Perhaps it’s time the players on this country’s board get bitten, and I won’t let anyone stand in my way—no matter how handsome he is.
He’s a complication I simply can’t afford.
Content Warnings
{Contain Spoilers}
The recipe Genevieve would use is below.
2 ½ ounces gin
1 ounce dry vermouth
Juice from half a lemon
1.5 ounce olive brine
Instructions: Add ingredients to a shaker filled with ice. Stir until well combined and strain into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with four olives. Serves one.
NONALCOHOLIC
A fat slice of strawberry cake.
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Fueled by sarcasm, grit, and fierce resolution, she'll keep you laughing out loud while you're on the edge of your seat.
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