All eyes fell on Annelise Valentine, who had just burst in, and on Sean Conrad, who was right behind her.
The air froze. Only the background music continued to drift, oblivious, through the room.
Jett Westgate slowly raised his eyes. His gaze rested calmly on her face, as if he had expected her arrival, yet also as if she were a complete stranger.
"Miss Valentine," he began, his tone flat, almost teasing. "You've been well, I trust."
Annelise didn't take the bait. She walked straight over to the massive, curved sofa, glanced at Stella Sterling, then turned to the man himself.
"I need to talk to you," she said, getting straight to the point. Her voice was cold, all business.
Jett Westgate leaned back slightly, sinking into the soft sofa. He was enveloped in an aura that was at once lazy and intensely intimidating.
"Miss Valentine, the line of people who want favors from me could stretch from here to the outskirts of Aethelgard."
