She belongs to me. I will have her.

Thomas Blankenship ascended the steps to his townhouse, seething. He knew what that fool Parr was up to. He means to play me against Essex in a secret bidding war. Well, I won't play that game. She's mine.

He pounded his fist on the door rather than use the knocker.

His wizened butler, Baltus, appeared at the door. "Welcome back, sir."

Blankenship only growled and stamped past him into the hall. He shrugged out of his ...