Arik regretted offering before Cassian had even left the gallery.
Not because he intended to withdraw it.
Because Liam was already looking at him as though he had been handed a sealed laboratory and told the lock might be negotiable.
Cassian collected his cane and departed through the glass doors with considerably more satisfaction than the situation warranted. The suspended model of Deira continued rotating above the conference table, golden districts shifting slowly across the polished floor.
Liam remained in the leather chair, one hand still wrapped around Arik's wrist.
"When?"
"After dinner."
The answer produced immediate delight.
Arik looked at Liam's bright crimson eyes, the tablet abandoned across his thighs, and felt an answering flicker of interest somewhere deeper than his own conscious thoughts.
