Chapter 94: Blackwood Family Games
Lizzie
The Presidential Suite felt colder than it had the night before. Morning light streamed through the massive windows, but it did nothing to warm the tension crackling in the air.
Reginald Blackwood sat at the head of a long, elegantly set table laden with silver platters of eggs Benedict, fresh fruit, pastries, and steaming coffee.
He looked every inch the patriarch with his cane resting against his chair like a scepter.
“I was beginning to think I needed to send Hudson up there with a pistol to remind you that breakfast was getting cold,” he said in that measured voice the moment we stepped inside.
“Unconventional,” I replied lightly, “but efficient. I also remember telling your Agent H that I’d already had a full breakfast. But I guess t
