Third Person
“An interesting place to meet.” Fiona’s father, dressed in a dark brown suit, had his hands in his pockets and was looking around with judgmental amusement.
“It’s not as if we could meet at my home,” the Queen snapped, giving him a severe look. They were at the home of another nobleman, one who owed Scarlet many favors, and had just retreated into a rather old-fashioned library at the back of the house in order to have a private conversation. The bright morning sunlight pouring in through the high windows illuminated thick, swirling clouds of dust motes everywhere.
He met Scarlet’s glare easily, an arrogant smile curling his lips. “You sure have lost a lot lately, haven’t you? Including that nice penthouse office downtown. And, of course, all the leverage you’ve been hol
