Mila tucked her laptop under her arm and left her room in search of Dante.
The hallway was quiet, the house settling into its late-night rhythm. Most of the staff had gone home, the guards were at their posts, and Vincenzo had retired to his wing hours ago.
She moved through the corridors with purpose, her bare feet silent on the polished floors. She'd thrown on jeans and a loose sweater, not bothering with shoes.
The information she found couldn't wait until morning. Dante needed to see what she'd found. He needed to know who was behind the fire.
His office door was closed when she reached it. No light spilled from beneath. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle. Maybe he'd gone to bed. Maybe she should wait.
Then she heard the clink of glass against glass.
She opened the door.
