epped into the foyer. The muscles in his neck were tight, a dull a

ed. His eyes immediately went to the head of the

tes of roasted meat and seasoned vegetables. Cassandra sa

o Cassandra. "Where is Bianca?" His voice was flat, car

e, a picture of fragile hesitation. "Sister Bianca... she was in the kitc

. "I saw her struggling, so I made

picked up his fork. He took a bite. The food

ooking? The image didn't fit. She was a Sinclair.

refully. "She seemed upset. M

atters' hit him like a physical blow, reminding him of the Sinclair famil

late. He reached for his water glass, his thumb rubbing hard aga

s were wide and innocent. "No. Sh

nce washed over his chest. Bianca was always like t

didn't take another bite. He walked out of the dining room, his heav

at his half-empty plate. The corners of mouth

d shirt over her head and threw it hard into the laundry basket. H

ilk slip dress. "Madam, where

r voice was thick and tight.

"Please be careful. And Mr

shot through her chest. She let out a dry, bitter laugh. "

ing dark eyeliner with aggressive, sharp strokes. She pulled

own the stairs. As she passed the dining room, she glanced inside.

on her lungs. She swallowed hard, forcing

black SUV. He quickly opened t

he leather seat. "

eaned her head against the cold glass of the window. She closed her eyes.

tchen. She thought of Kahlil sitting at that table, eating Cassandra

throat burned. She needed the burn of alcohol. She needed to