Lucien

His eyes could not tear themselves off the graceful, curvaceous figure of his wife as she glided about, serving, smiling graciously as the guests made appreciative sounds, wolfing down the food. His eyes shifted to roam across the table. Beside him sat Schwartz, his golden head turned to look at Proserpina as he praised the chestnut soup lavishly. Beatrice, scurrying about with the soup tureen, immediately stopped to replenish his bowl. Proserpina laughed in protest,

‘You know that there is a main course to follow, James!’

Aiyana sat beside Schwartz, her hard black eyes darting around the table occasionally, watching, observing, and filing away information for later. The woman...