ALEX POV
Alex found his mother in the east sitting room.
It was the room she always chose when she intended to dominate a conversation, high ceilings, ancestral portraits, furniture chosen less for comfort and more for intimidation. Laura Robinson sat straight-backed on the cream sofa, ankles crossed, handbag resting neatly beside her like punctuation at the end of a sentence.
She looked up when he entered, not surprised, but prepared.
“So,” she said coolly. “You finally decided to see me.” Alex closed the door behind him.
The sound echoed. “You went to her,” he said.
Laura’s lips curved faintly. “I visited a guest in my family’s home.”
“She is not a guest,” he replied. “And you had no right to speak to her without me present.”
Laura studied him then, really studied him, as though
