ISABELLE
“Mr. Zealot wants to see you. Immediately.”
I froze.
My father is in Sedona?
Confused, my brows drew together as I glanced toward the black Benz idling in front of the boutique. I had only stepped in to pick up a few last-minute things for the wedding. The timing was wrong.
“Right now?” I asked, still processing.
The man gave a firm nod. “Yes. Right now.”
With an exasperated sigh, I rolled my eyes and marched out of the boutique. My heels clicked against the pavement as I approached the car and slid into the back seat.
To my surprise, Dominic—my father’s ever-silent shadow and secretary—was already inside, seated as rigidly as a soldier on duty. He gave me a subtle nod, the kind of gesture that was more habit than courtesy.
“What is he doing here?” I asked as I turned
