Conrad shifted uneasily. “But... if he really knows, then why hasn’t he done anything? Why didn’t he confront you right there? Something’s not right.”
Patrick shook his head. “That’s what scares me.”
He could still see Alexander’s faint smirk—just the ghost of it, curling at the corner of his lips as he turned back to his conversation, leaving Patrick standing frozen like a fool.
That wasn’t the expression of a man confused or forgiving. That was someone waiting.
“Maybe,” Patrick whispered, “he’s just biding his time.”
Conrad’s shoulders tensed. “You think he’s planning something?”
Patrick laughed dryly. “If he’s anything like I know he is... then yes. And whatever it is, it won’t be small.”
He pushed off the wall and straightened his jacket, forcing his composure back into place. “
