"Brooklyn?"
A petite and hourglass-shaped woman called out, instantly throwing her arms around the Duke before he could swirl around to catch on the identity of the person who had addressed him by his middle name.
Dallas had never been addressed by his middle name. At least, not until he departed Des-Fosses, his hometown.
The last time Dallas had been addressed by his middle name was 30 years ago, following his departure from Des-Fossess.
And, the one person who had addressed him was sending him off when she did.
His dearest friend, Sharon.
He didn't even need to ponder much on who could have invaded his mansion, her familiar scent, which he caught a whiff of when she slapped her jet-black bone-straight hair into his nose, gave it all away.
He could recognize that scent anywhere.
Sharon smelt rosy with a mixture of the herbal tonics she sometimes used for spells.
