While Darya drove and bantered with her brother, the atmosphere in another car 20km away was far less relaxed.
In the spacious Rolls Royce, Micah occupied the left side of the backseat and kept his eyes on the laptop screen on his lap.
Regina sat to his right, trying in vain to engage him in a conversation.
As the sedan approached a major traffic junction, the driver communicated with Norris in the front passenger seat.
‘Ask the boss,’ the driver said with his eyes.
‘You ask.’ Norris replied silently.
‘Boss looks to be in a bad mood.’ The driver blinked rapidly. ‘I don’t want to lose my job.’
‘Neither do I.’ The assistant held back a sigh.
Just the day before yesterday, he received a major dressing-down from his boss for filtering Darya Miller’s calls three years
