DON'T YOU WORRY ABOUT A THING

          The day after, their breakfast together was a cool affair, with Brody standoffish and cold behind his newspaper after a superficial good morning and a sharp, penetrating glance at her white face and shadowed eyes.

          Their journey to the airport, the long flight to the States, the car ride through Chicago to her apartment… all were conducted in the same distant, remote silence, broken only by a casual, impersonal word exchange about the ‘Sea Hawk’ project.

          When they drew up outside her house, Brody gestured to his chauffeur, who had been waiting at the airport, to remain in the car, and carried her suitcase himself, despite her insistence that she could manage.

          The tall, commanding tycoon in the designer-cut suit and hand-made Italian shoes

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