Divorced With His Heir In My Belly
Big Elijah took a deep bow, his eyes lingering on me for a second before he turned and walked back out to the driveway to give us space.
But there was someone else in the room.
I felt the shift in the air before I heard him. Norman was standing at the edge of the foyer, near the doorway to the study. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, his shirt crisp and white, his hair neatly combed back.
"Sarah," Norman said. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a cold, sharp tension that made the hair on my arms stand up. "The car is ready. We’re going to lose the reservation, if we don't get going."