Damian sat in the silence of his study, the pale moonlight casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. His jaw remained tight, the echo of Eilika's defiance still ringing in his ears.
"How dare she call me arrogant?" He was a Duke of Varos; his word was law, and yet she had looked him in the eye without flinching.
The doors creaked open, and Maurice stepped into the room.
"Your Grace, I examined the motorcar as you ordered. The brakes were sabotaged," Maurice reported. "The driver was stunned. He had been away from the vehicle, likely conversing with the other chauffeurs when the deed was done." Maurice paused, a flicker of genuine respect crossing his features. "Lady Eilika is remarkably sharp. She may have saved your life tonight."
Damian's eyes flashed with irritation at the hint of pride in Maurice's tone. "Who would have the audacity to strike at me so openly?" he muttered, more to himself than his guard.
