Nicholas
The peace of the coastal estate disintegrated the moment our tires hit the asphalt back in the city.
By Tuesday afternoon, the high-society rumors had taken a fresh, annoying turn. I was sitting at my study desk reviewing the post-vacation brief when Arthur Vance informed me that Daniel Harper had sent an official, courier-delivered invitation directly to Sutton Manor for Faith.
Attached was a bouquet of rare cream roses and a note requesting her presence for lunch at an upscale downtown bistro to discuss a major grant for his arts foundation—the very children's charity project she had expressed interest in at the gala.
I stared at the invitation, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth ached.
"Call Harper’s office back, Arthur," I commanded, my deep voice dropping into an icy, uny
