The ride back to the Laurent estate was suffocatingly silent at first, the weight of Genevieve Laurent's cryptic call pressing down on Anastasia like an anchor. The city lights of New York blurred past the windows as Caroline maneuvered her sleek black Mercedes through the streets, her grip on the wheel tightening.
"You know, this could be anything," Caroline finally spoke, her voice unusually careful.
Anastasia turned her head slightly, staring at her best friend. "Anything? My mother doesn't call unless it's an actual emergency, Caroline. This isn't a dinner invitation."
Caroline sighed. "Yeah, well, what if it's not about Dante?"
Anastasia exhaled sharply. "It is. I know it is."
"You don't know that," Caroline argued, though the uncertainty in her tone betrayed her. "Look, your mother sounded pissed, yes, but it could be about something else. Maybe the company just had a bad quarter. It happens, you know?"
