When he speaks, his voice is quiet and low, “Madame Levine said to give this to you,
and make sure you understand the contents. It is something she’d normally do herself, but
under the circumstance and considering who your benefactor is, she wanted to make sure it
is all seen to quickly and with as little fanfare as possible.”
“Gods, Mike,” I take the black box with the white ribbon from him, “You make it
sound so scary and official. Am I in trouble?”
“Oh no! I’m sorry, didn’t mean to worry you. It is just, Lord Rothchildes does not
suffer fools lightly and I worry for his reaction to that little witch – forgive me, she’s your
family, I shouldn’t – I’m sorry,” he stops quickly and wipe over his face. The man is worn
out, exhaustion pales his skin.
“No harm done, Mike.” His eyes k
