While Hazel was quietly looking through the menu, Dominique had begun practising a little witchcraft of his own.
He sat opposite her, his chin resting against one hand, while his eyes occasionally drifted towards the phone lying beside her plate. He had been enjoying a perfectly wonderful lunch with his beautiful girl until Leo had decided to interrupt them with a phone call. And although Hazel hadn't entertained the call for long, Dominique still considered the entire incident a personal offence.
In his mind, he had already pictured a tiny voodoo doll with Leo's name written across its chest. He would give it a few harmless pokes whenever his brother-in-law decided to disturb them, perhaps tie its little legs together so the man couldn't reach his phone, and make sure he remained far too occupied with his own problems to call Hazel again.
It was a perfectly reasonable plan, in Dominique's opinion.
Unfortunately, there was one small problem.
He didn't have a voodoo doll.
