Alistair's POV

The steady rhythm of work occupies me until the creak of my office door interrupts the silence. Without shifting my gaze from the document in front of me, I know who it is. Isola never bothers with the courtesy of knocking. Sure enough, her voice soon follows, tinged with that familiar persistence.

"You're still stuck in here? Aren't you coming downstairs for dinner?"

"No," I reply curtly, eyes still glued to the page. "Later, ...