Phoebe's POV
Since we'd decided on late-night food first, Brittany and I couldn't exactly parade around with our million-dollar auction wins, so we had the auction house deliver everything to our places.
Obviously, when you're talking about treasures worth that much, you need someone reliable to babysit the transport. That lucky someone turned out to be Alistair.
Alistair waved dismissively. "Harold, I'll swing by for you later."
Harold just shrugged. "Take your time."
With Alistair dispatched, Brittany's sports car happened to seat four perfectly. Harold and I claimed the back while Boyce took the wheel and Brittany rode shotgun, constantly craning her neck to peek at us.
"So Phoebe, where should we grab food? We're totally lost in Clearwater. Got any hot spots?" Brittany asked.
What she really wanted was the scoop on Harold, but his intimidating presence kept her from being too obvious. Smart move—she didn't want this powerhouse seeing right through her.
