Liam had been alone for twenty-three minutes, which was apparently long enough for a wedding budget to become personally offensive.
His technical-language lecturer had left him in the private sitting room with three corrected exercises, two recommended archive texts, and the expectation that Liam would use the remainder of the afternoon productively.
Liam had intended to.
Unfortunately, Rubis had left the wedding projections open.
He sat curled into one end of the long cream sofa, dressed in charcoal trousers and a soft burgundy shirt with the sleeves pushed above his forearms. His hair was loose after a morning of lectures, falling over one shoulder while he stared at a suspended rendering of the ceremonial hall.
Or pretended to.
The flowers had changed twice.
Liam had noticed because the structural calculations beneath the suspended installations had finally appeared.
Someone had listened to him.
He scrolled past three pages discussing fabric.
