I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, but looking between Zachary and his dad, the signs are obvious. The piercing blue eyes, the way he carries himself – like he knows he’s untouchable. Even from the way his eyes graze over me, like he’s both summing me up and checking me out at the same time. It’s creepy, but it’s also a trait his son has inherited.
I’m not sure what stops me from the usual spillage that would be pouring out from my mouth right about now, but my tongue is tied, my lips clamped together. I don’t know what is going to happen next but the hostility in the room is crackling.
“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” Zachary's voice hardens. “Freddie said you were in New York.”
“I was,” Zachary’s dad growls, “but I had to fly over here when I got the phone call sayi
