“May I ask why you’re taking her away from me?” Tedros complained, standing in the middle of his office – a beautiful room with floor-to-ceiling windows and a large lit fireplace across.
There was a pair of deep green lounge chairs around a low table, centered on a palatial turquoise, blue, and gold rug. That is where Alastor was currently sitting, reclining and with his cheek resting on his palm. “She’s not yours,” he insisted.
Tedros did not appreciate his reasoning. He moved to a bar across the room and poured a drink of his choice – gin. “Whiskey?” he asked. Alastor nodded.
“I haven’t seen you for two years, and when I finally did, you stole my fiancé,” He handed the whiskey to Alastor and sat down across from him, now face to face with each other.
“You didn’t poison this?” Alastor
