laughed outright, though it was very low, and he shook his head, flashing a glance on David that implied they knew each other very well, maybe too well. I didn’t like it that they knew each other at all. David was my David, and Armand was my Armand. I sat down on the bench. “So David’s told you the whole story,” I said, glancing up at Armand and then over at David. David gave a negative shake of the head. “Not without your permission, Brat Prince,” David said, a little disdainfully. “I
