Six hours after the luncheon ended, alone in his office, Ryan Blackwood is cursing his aunt, Margareth Blackwood, into the depths of the abyss.
He has just finished listening to Silvia's verbal report on the disaster she called "a luncheon," and he is sitting on his sofa with his hands gripping his head.
Oh Aunt Margareth. Why did you have to do that? You hate the Montroses, fine. Scream at them, spit at them, push them into a ditch. I do not care. But why did you have to drag the Baroness into it?
He drags a hand down his face.
"We cannot afford to offend the Baroness. We really, really cannot. She has networks everywhere. Everywhere."
He leans back, staring blankly at the ceiling. His mind feels like mud. Every attempt at thinking just slips.
"I can only ask for more time. What else can I do?" His voice cracks a little.
