Diana looked up at him, the dark, venomous thrill of the impending slaughter reigniting in her eyes.
"The debt call."
"At the opening bell," Ryan confirmed. He stepped back, keeping one hand resting firmly on the small of her back. "Come out to the kitchen. You've been staring at spreadsheets all day."
He guided her out of the library.
In the kitchen, Zara had laid out a massive spread of catered Italian food across the dark soapstone island. Sophie was already sitting on one of the heavy steel barstools, a plate of truffled pasta in front of her, looking more relaxed than she had in weeks.
Iralis emerged from the hallway, her wire-rimmed glasses pushed up on her head. She held a mug of black coffee, her oversized college sweatshirt swallowing her frame.
