"I finally got through to Elena this morning, Rome," Williams said, his voice heavy with a seriousness that instantly put Roman on alert. His face, which was usually composed and stern, carried the look of someone about to deliver a blow, not of the physical kind, but one that would strike at the very core.
Breakfast had long been over. Trevor had left earlier for the company, attending to pressing matters, while Dexter and Daniel were outside in the garden, playing. Inside Roman's office, a quiet tension filled the space between the two men.
The room was dimly lit, the curtains only partially drawn, casting streaks of sunlight across the mahogany desk where Roman sat, a pen forgotten in his hand.
Across from him, Williams sat with his back straight. He looked only slightly relaxed on the outside, but Roman knew better.
