ROMILLY
“I want eyes on Elara.”
Why the hell does everyone think they can use me? First, that bastard Cedric treated me like his personal plaything, swearing I was the one he truly wanted while keeping me hidden like some dirty little secret. Then there was Dave, turning me into his personal spy against Cedric. And now, as if I’m some pawn on a chessboard, Godfrey Fothergill thinks he can do the same.
I ignored the empty chair—clearly meant for me—and strolled toward him. Without hesitation, I reached for his glass of scotch, still half-full, and downed it in one smooth gulp. “And what makes you think I am going to do that?”
I set the glass back on his desk, but before I could pull my hand away, his fingers closed over mine, gripping hard. His strength was meant to intimidate, but I re
