She arrives at eleven with two bags of groceries and a rolling suitcase and the energy of a woman who has decided that a situation requires her physical presence and has rearranged her entire week accordingly.
Dominic opens the door.
Petra looks at him for exactly three seconds. Then she looks at me over his shoulder. Then back at him. The full inventory of Petra Navarro, conducted at eleven at night on an estate driveway, is a thing to witness.
"Dominic Sinclair," she says.
"Ms. Navarro," he says.
"Petra," she says. "You're going to be calling me Petra eventually so we might as well start now." She hands him one of the grocery bags with the confidence of someone who has decided he's trustworthy enough to carry things. "Where's the kitchen?"
He takes the bag without a word and leads
