CHAPTER FIFTEEN Rebel
Breakfast in the Bradford house was almost as formal as dinner. It was fascinating how little these people trusted each other to behave without an audience. A bit like breakfast theater with a carafe of excellent French roast.
I came down in my training clothes. Nothing sexy, just a dark grey T-shirt and a pair of navy blue shorts that were tied on with a drawstring.
That was the first shot, and I fired it on purpose.
The Luna saw them before I’d sat down. Her cup stopped halfway to her mouth.
“Lily.” She set it back in the saucer with a small click. “What on earth are you wearing?”
“Training clothes.” I helped myself to eggs. “I start today.”
“You most certainly do not.” A laugh came out with it, light, the kind women like her used to file the edge off a comma
