Genevieve stared at the terrifying, scarred monster. She realized, with absolute certainty, that he was not joking.
Genevieve swallowed.
"Yes, Mr. Sebastian."
She turned.
Then stopped.
"May I at least ask—"
"No."
Genevieve stammered, her face a mask of humiliated rage. She turned on her heel and practically sprinted down the hallway, dripping milk onto the blueberry-colored carpet.
Sebastian watched until she disappeared around the corner.
Sebastian snorted in disgust.
He pulled a clean, pristine white handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiped the single drop of spilled milk from his leather glove, and knocked twice on the heavy oak door.
"Enter," came Seraphina's sleepy little voice.
Sebastian opened the door.
Seraphina was already sitting in the middle of her enormous bed, wearing a fluffy cloud-patterned nightgown.
Ignis was curled beside her like a tiny pink furnace.
He wasn't carrying a silver tray.
