By the time Davis left the club, it was already midnight. His eyes lingered on the glittering neon lights of the city, yet his heart felt no trace of admiration.
At the moment, he couldn't stop worrying about how to explain the situation to old man Allen at home, to Deborah, to the Santiago family, and above all...to his grandfather, Elliot.
No doubt he was bound to return to a restless estate where both staff and inhabitants were already hanging by a thin thread of patience.
Lost in thought, his phone suddenly buzzed. He glanced at the screen and froze. "Speak of the devil…" he muttered under his breath, sliding his finger across to pick the call.
In a calm tone, he greeted, "Grandpa?"
There was no doubt Elliot had already heard of the incident. What information could possibly escape their Mafia Veteran and Lord?
