Once His Wallflower, Now His Biggest Mistake
I just needed to finish the West Library and get back to the nursery to check on the kids, but Julian was hovering.
Julian Sterling, the family’s resident genius, was perched on a rolling ladder, humming a tuneless melody that set my teeth on edge.
"Antonella, dear," he called out, his voice smooth as silk. "Could you come over here for a moment? I’m trying to organize these first editions of 18th-century botany, and I’m afraid the ledger is tucked right behind the base of this unit."
"Of course, Señor Julian," I rasped, dragging my feet across the Persian rug. "My old eyes are not what they were, but I will look."