*Jackson*
I clamp my hand over Ines’ mouth. I know how to be quiet; I have had years of experience in the art of keeping oneself utterly silent. But God knows what Ines might do. The crazy woman might sneeze at any moment. Or hiccough. Or fidget. Okay, I adore her, I do, but she isn’t always easy.
She glares at me over my hand. Yes, I believe, she is a fidgeter. I move my other hand to her upper arm and hold firm, determined to keep her still. I try not to leave a bruise, but our safety comes first; there is no telling what Oliver might do finding us.
The man in question yawns and stands up, and for a moment my heart races with hope. But the blasted man just crosses to the side table and pours himself another brandy.
I look at Ines. Hadn't she once said Oliver never overindulges in
