—Nathaniel—

I sat up straighter and lowered my glass on the coffee table before taking the call.

Mama Emelda’s face filled the screen. She was seated on a high-backed chair in her study, wrapped in a dark shawl.

“Good evening, Mama,” I said.

She squinted as though surveying my environment. “You're in London.”

“Yes Mama,” I swallowed.

“I thought you were pursuing a contract in France.”

I let out a breath. “Yes, Mama. But Eloise and Damian flew in from the States and ...