Chapter 6: Billable Hour

Lucan stepped onto the terrace and looked at his nephew.

Brent stopped talking in the middle of a word.

"The annulment is not on offer today," Lucan said.

"Uncle, I was only..."

"You were only leaving."

Brent looked at me one more time, and he left.

My shoulders came down. "I'm not going with him."

"I heard."

"I owe you a year and three days."

"I heard that too," Lucan said. "I heard it in my sleep."

He turned and went back inside before I could answer.

That night I came down the corridor to his door at ten o'clock, holding a white shirt.

It was his, and I had worn it to bed.

The robe was too big, and the shirt was only huge.

I raised my fist to knock, and the door opened before I got there.

"Your shirt," I said, and held it out.

"Keep it."

"It's an asset. It goes on the ledger."

"Then the ledger can keep it."

I stepped back, and my heel slid sideways on the rug.

I caught myself on the doorframe and hissed.

His eyes dropped to my foot.

"Which one?" he said.

"Which what?"

"Which heel. You have been favoring the left since breakfast."

"It's a blister. It's nothing."

"Sit."

He pointed at the bench by the wall, and I sat, mostly because my wolf did.

He went down on one knee, took my ankle in his hand, and slipped off the shoe.

My sister's shoe had rubbed a strip of skin raw on my heel.

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