Eight
The heavy metal doors slid back open again and a shadow fell inside the warehouse. Radclyffe. He was younger than I imagined him to be. And much more menacing.
“Remember, this isn’t me,” I whispered to Mika before stepping forward and shooting our visitor my hardest glare. “You’re late.”
Radclyffe’s mouth curled into a charming smile. “I beg your pardon, Lady Corentine. I was held up.”
“I don’t have all day.”
“Then let’s not waste precious time.” He halted at a respectful distance, towering over me. “What was so important that we needed to meet here, in person?”
“You’ll see in a minute,” I quipped back. “I have a project I want to discuss.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Follow me,” I said, walking away without waiting for him to follow. It seemed counterintuitive to act like
