CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Mauri took longer than normal to come out of the bedroom. He looked frail like he’d had a rough night. It had been easy to forget how ill Mauri with so many other distractions around.
He’d paced Mauri’s private drawing room for almost ten minutes, unable to sit down because of the unsated energy zipping through him. When Mauri did eventually come in, Dax stopped, and his tirade died on his lips.
Gaunt and tired, the lines on Mauri’s face were etched deep. His usually proud stature was stooped. “I don’t suppose this is a social visit,” Mauri said, he coughed then brought a silk handkerchief to the corner of his mouth. “What did you find out?”
“I came here to find out what you know,” Dax said, trying not to be affected by the sight of such a robust man wasting away.
