Ethan Moretti stood in the center of the library, sharp in a tailored suit. Shelves packed with old books lined the walls, and the room was scattered with chairs, tables, and two large sofas. Afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, throwing soft shadows across the wooden floor.
Everyone in the room watched him as he talked about his upcoming trip to Paris—a meeting with Don Hugo and a few new investors.
His patience slipped. “Where the hell is Aidan?” he snapped, glancing toward the door.
Marionne lounged on a sofa, phone in hand. “He left my room earlier. Haven’t seen him since.”
“Can you go find him?” Ethan asked, the edge in his voice unmistakable.
Marionne looked up, stunned he’d even asked. Was he serious? Ordering her around like she was staff?
“I’m not your maid,” s
