A knock sounded at the door.
Liam did not even try to hide the violence in his face.
"There," he said flatly. "Your miracle of timing has returned."
Arik's mouth curved. "Our audience."
"That is a generous word for George."
"Not George."
The door opened before Liam could ask what that meant.
Of course it was George.
He entered with the smooth satisfaction of a man who believed he had engineered destiny by leaving two people alone in a sunlit room for half an hour. His expression carried the bright, proprietary smugness of someone already rearranging treaty clauses in his head and congratulating himself for the elegance of it.
'Insupportable. Absolutely insupportable.'
"Your Highness," George said, smiling first at Arik and then at Liam with the revolting warmth of a man who had decided both were now useful in matching ways. "I trust the conversation was productive."
Liam's mouth opened.
Arik answered first.
"Yes."
George practically glowed.
Liam hated that instantly.
