The study door was already open. My father sat behind his massive black desk like a king on his throne. The room smelled like leather and expensive cigars. Everything about James Donovan screamed authority, from his perfectly pressed suit to the way he didn't stand when we entered.
Liam stood by the window, shooting me a small, worried smile that did nothing to calm my nerves.
"Sit," my father commanded. He didn't ask. He commanded.
We sat like obedient children.
"Nathan called me yesterday afternoon." My father began, his voice filling the room. "He mentioned some concerns about your marriage."
Irritation found my emotions again. I turned to stare at Nathan, who suddenly found the bookshelf very interesting. What had he told my father?
"I explained about the open marriage arra
