"Are you sure you can walk with that leg?" Sullivan asked again as we prepared to leave the room.

I held back a tired sigh, turning to face him with an exaggerated tilt of my head. "Darling, I am fine," I drawled, slipping into a light American accent.

A subtle, amused smile touched the corner of his lips at the endearment.

I was wearing one of his dark tailored suits. Surprisingly, the jacket fit my shoulders reasonably well, looking like an intentional, structured blazer buttoned neatly over his crisp shirt. The trousers, however, were another story—falling so wide and long on my frame that they resembled voluminous palazzo pants. Slogging...