(Mira)
Ridge thought he was subtle when he lied, which would’ve been impressive if I hadn’t spent enough time around him to know every version of his silence. The calm one meant trouble, the clipped one meant anger, and the patient one meant he was hiding something. Today he’d managed all three at once. It was insulting effort, honestly.
The compound felt different by late afternoon. Boots crossed gravel more often, engines started and stopped, doors opened, voices carried low through the open windows. Nobody looked panicked when I passed them earlier, which meant whatever was happening had been planned. Planned things usually belonged to Ridge.
I took my book outside and settled on the bench near the side garden beside the main building. It was one of the few quiet spots on the propert
