“I, ah, we had information—” Skelton glanced at Zoë, who wobbled her chest at him with a shameless leer. He blinked, and forced his eyes away. “It’s a private matter, sir.” “So is mine,” Dominic said meaningfully. “And I should like to get on with it, and I will speak to you tomorrow.” “I beg your pardon, Mr. Frey. We had reports this was a house of ill repute—” “What does it look like, a fucking nunnery?” Skelton flinched, as well he might: Dominic was not known for raising his voice, let alone for foul language. “Have you any other brilliant insights for me?” “I,
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