One Night's Mistake With My Fiance's Brother
A small drawer slid out from the paneling, revealing a locked compartment.
From it, he retrieved a worn business card.
Only a name printed on it: Edgar Royce.
He turned it over, thinking. Royce was a fixer. Discreet, clinical, efficient. Not a gossip, not a leech. Just the kind of man you called when your own instincts weren’t enough.
Benjamin sat back down, dialed the number, and waited.
Three rings.
Then a quiet voice: "Royce? It's Benjamin Hamilton."
There was a place, before the other person responded.