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"Cabal law." I turned to Griffin. "Take him into custody. Not to the cells, but to the house arrest room. It's to be double guarded at all times. He's to have no visitors except those approved by me. None, including my father. He's to have no food except that ordered by me, delivered to me and taken to him by Paige or myself."
Griffin glanced at my father. He hesitated, back stiff, then he deflated and nodded.
"Lucas is in charge. Do as he says."
HOPE
RACKING UP CREDITS
The hotel room door opened with a click. Karl peeked around the corner.
"You're up."
I yawned. "Ju
st stirring. Being lazy and enjoying it."
I was curled up in the king-size bed, propped on two pillows, with the rest strewn around me. On my morning bathroom trip I'd grabbed a robe--not for decency, but because it was thick and soft, too tempting to ignore.
"You look lost in that bed and that robe. Very cute." He smiled at me.
"Cute?" I sputtered. I undid the robe and spread it, then stretched out on top of the covers. "Better?"
His gaze slid down me. "I take it you don't mind a cold breakfast?"
I noticed the tray in his hands, steam billowing from the plate cover, and I pulled the robe shut.
"Damn," he said.
He set the tray down, handed me USA Today, then tossed the Wall Street Journal onto the other side of the bed.
"You really are spoiling me."
"No, I'm racking up credits. I suspect I'll need them."
He kissed my cheek as he leaned over to hand me a coffee.
"Speaking of credits," I said. "I called my mother while you were out. She said dinner Saturday would be wonderful. She'll make reservations."
"Too late. Done."
"You got reservations for Odessa's on a Saturday?"
His brows arched. "You think I don't know how to get a table at a popular restaurant? You forget who you're talking to, my dear." He set the tray between us as he climbed in. "Dropping your mother's name helped."
"I'm sure it did. She likes you, you know. For me, I mean."
"Good. Though I was on my best behavior that night, which may have skewed the results."
"I don't think so."
Our eyes met. He nodded. "Good."
I spread preserves on my toast. "She wants me to invite you to the spring regatta."
"Rowing? Are you competing?"
"I..." A shrug. "I'm out of practice, so it'll be strictly a social function for me."
