Nicholas

God! He was dead tired. The responsibilities resting on his shoulders were overwhelming.

His father was a distinguished member of London's Aristocracy. His internment and the place where he was laid to rest had to befit his station in life.

With friends at the club and with his solicitors' help, everything went smoothly as planned.

The only important thing missing was his Sinclair. Five fucking days. He didn't receive one text from her. Not even a missed call. Nothing.

His imagination was running wild. He told her there was a family emergency. No response. What could she be up to?

Was she eating well? Did she get sick? He...