It would take a sword to get the job done or, better yet, a finely honed axe. He sat in his usual armchair, attempting to read and making absolutely no headway. Again and again, his attention was snagged by the room’s other occupants. Georgia, reclining gracefully in a chaise opposite him, appeared engrossed in a fashion magazine. Her relaxed, indolent pose and focused expression didn’t fool Conrad for an instant. She was hiding something. He could read the surge of her blood, could sense her alertness. She was no more engaged in her reading than he was. Although she didn’t so much as glance in Damian’s direction, Conrad had no doubt she was aware of his every move. As was he. Damian had been sulking for several days now. Oh, he was subtle about it, too. His bland expression was nearly as flawless as Georgia’s. Seated at his desk on the far side of the room, he appeared contentedly busy with paperwork. Perhaps he was going over the household accounts, or finalizing plans for his upcoming party.
