*
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Joaquin said. “It’s risky, and some might say downright stupid.”
I shot the nastiest glare I could muster in his direction, while he pretended not to notice me glaring at him. We were sitting outside in the garden, with Ethel and Morgana busy in the kitchen making samosas. They were visible through the glass panel, and from the looks of it they seemed to be enjoying themselves, talking animatedly while they kneaded the dough.
Joaquin and I were seated facing each other, with our feet tucked underneath us and our backs against the low white fence. We were watching them work, while the low heat of the sun drifted all around us. Joaquin had been uneasy ever since I told him what Damian had told me last night, and the disapproval was evident in his eyes.
