The Maxton ancestral lattice was a collection of very expensive, very antique furniture that had been comfortable for far too long and was about to be very, very uncomfortable—and the worst part, the genuinely hilarious part if one had the bandwidth to find it funny, was that they were going to march straight into the discomfort holding briefcases full of the wrong intelligence, wearing the serene expressions of men who believed their bloodline made them bulletproof.
Was there even a moment, after her first two terrified, heat-drenched days as Phei's slave, that she had regretted walking into that penthouse to bind him?
She could answer that in half a heartbeat, frankly, with change left over.
By her third day as Phei's slave, Cassiopeia had already decided becoming Phei's slave was the single best decision of her life.
And she did not have many of those—her own decisions.
