The door let out a soft sound; only a small gap appeared, revealing half of Manson's face. His expression hardened, more cold as it lingered on her face.
"Why are you in this layer? I clearly told you not to ever set foot here."
"I'm sorry," Fiona replied, her voice coming out softer than intended. "Uncle asked me to call you."
"Oh," he replied, the tension around his features eased slightly. "So?"
"Dinner is ready."
His gaze lingered on her face uncontrollably.
"Tell him to go on without us, and next time if Uncle tells you to come find me, just call me on the phone instead."
Fiona held his gaze as her lashes kept flickering.
"Okay."
She turned and walked away; the sound of her footsteps gradually faded down the corridor.
Then
He closed the door calmly.
"Who was that?" Ryan asked.
"Fiona"
Manson returned to his seat.
"Is she allowed here?"
"Hell no, Uncle asked her to call for us, but I told her we aren't having dinner."
Ryan's eyes widened in shock
