Rex took another sip of tea. He did it slowly, deliberately, savoring the heat as if he were savoring the very air of the room.
When he finally set the cup down on the small marble table beside him, the porcelain made a gentle, almost polite click—a sound so domestic, so civilized, that it felt like a physical violation in that den of debauchery.
"Welcome back, Helena," he said.
His voice was terrifyingly calm, carrying the easy cadence of a man greeting an old friend after a pleasant holiday. A thin, easy smile curved his lips, one that didn't reach his eyes, which remained cold and appraising.
"Oh, I see you brought your husband along as well... Leonidas, was it?"
He leaned back further into the velvet cushions, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of casual dominance. "You've timed your return perfectly."
"We were just about to have breakfast."
For one interminably long second, time itself seemed to congeal. Nobody in the hall breathed.
