Brandon loosened his grip and stepped back. “Nicolas, I’ve told you what I needed to. Just watch yourself with Sophia, okay? We could all end up in a mess.”

Nicolas, usually composed, looked troubled.

Without another word from Nicolas, Brandon put on his coat and left.

Once Brandon settled in his car, he dialed a number on his phone.

A soft voice answered, “Mr. Foster, what can I do for you?”

“Meet me at Champs Le Bar, third floor, in thirty minutes,” Brandon stated before hanging ...