At that moment he glanced at the Maybach again, the gold crest engraved on its custom rims, the faint scent of premium leather wafting out from the opened door. No regular man pulled up like that. No regular man sent a man like this.
If Zane could send someone like Sir Conner, then Zane wasn't a nobody.
And if Zane wasn't a nobody, what did that make them?
At that moment Sir Conner finally stopped in front of Emma.
His voice, deep and steady, cut through the stunned silence like a warm knife through cold butter.
"Lady Emma."
Immediately sir Conner gave a respectful nod to Emma. His tone was calm, composed as always, but there was a flicker of urgency in his eyes.
"You look troubled, Lady Emma," he said, glancing around once more as if still expecting to see Zane emerge from the crowd or step down from somewhere with that familiar calm expression on his face.
"Where's Sir Zane? He was supposed to meet you here. Everything was arranged precisely."
