The following morning, Shantel sat stiffly at her desk, one manicured finger tapping a venomous rhythm against the lacquered wood as her other hand clenched the phone.
A muted groan escaped her lips as she finished the call with her grandmother.
"Yes, Grandma," she said tightly. "I'm still in Rovencia. Something came up… No, not work exactly. I just need to tie up a few things before I come back."
She paused, listening with half an ear to her grandmother's gentle inquiries. But she wasn't about to explain what had really happened—how the charming devil in a charcoal coat had effectively held her hostage in Rovencia in the most civil and infuriating way imaginable.
"No, I'll keep you updated. Please listen to Dorcas," she added hurriedly before she could be coaxed into elaborating. "Don't give her any reason to call in the doctor."
"I'm not a kid, besides I'm fully recovered to do what I know is right," her grandmother retorted.
