The dour British butler who always pretended not to remember Eliana’s name. She’d been here dozens upon dozens of times when she and Alexi were an item, but he remained aloof, with an air of vague disapproval, though in all honesty the poor man must have quite the challenge, what with the revolving door of women Alexi presented him. At the moment he was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for his bevy of unexpected, hungry guests.
“I’d almost forgotten how relentlessly unflappable you are,” she mused. “Over a dozen bedraggled, semi-hostile strangers in your house, including one with a gunshot wound, and you act like it’s an impromptu cocktail party.”
Now he did smile, widely. “Relentlessly unflappable? You make it sound like a personality defect. I’m positive, Butterfly.” He tapped his t
