Mara was just double-checking with Balfour to make sure that Alyssa hadn't spilled any beans she shouldn't have.
Mara had slipped out early that morning, eager to avoid Alyssa who might corner her with questions about last night's fiasco.
Even though she had managed to brush off Alyssa at the time, Balfour hadn't been fully coherent then.
In his presence, she feared he might grasp the gravity of what had happened.
But now, Balfour's voice on the phone betrayed no hint of suspicion.
Relieved, Mara asked, “Balfour, where are you at the moment? I popped over to the library this morning; there are a few books I've been itching to read but can't seem to find at home. Could you swing by and give me a lift on your way back?”
Balfour furrowed his brow, hesitating. Ivy's shoot could run late, yet Mara wanted a ride home.
“When are you heading back? Didn't you have the chauffeur drop you off this morning?”
Dean and Alyssa had chosen their suburban home for its tranquility, away from the bustling city center. They usually relied on cars for transportation.
Without a chauffeur, Mara surely couldn't make it to the library.
“I figured you’d be heading back, so I sent the driver home early. Come on, can’t you just pick me up? Or are you tied up with something else? Is the office swamped today?” Mara pressed.
Balfour didn’t want to lie, but he really needed to check on Ivy’s diet.
If her meals on set weren’t up to snuff, he'd have the housekeeper whip something up and deliver it.
“I'm not at the office right now. If it's not too far, come find me over at Ivy’s set, and I’ll take you home from there.”
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