48

Stefan

"You know, once upon a time, your mother, father, and I were very close."

"Ancient history." I did know that. My father had gone to school with Moriarty when his parents had moved to Italy. He'd met my mother two years after that, and the three of them were once friends. For a short time at least.

"Still." He shrugged a shoulder.

"Wait a minute." I chuckled and looked around the room. I had a feeling the two leather armchairs the men sat on had been moved from the front of his desk so he would keep us standing. "Mind if I sit?" I asked, picking up a smaller, hardback wooden chair and carrying it toward his desk before he could reply. Stephen remained standing. "So, is that what all this is about?" I asked. "Is it what it's always been about?"

His eyes narrowed just a little. I would have missed it if I wasn't paying attention. Stephen wasn't the only one who could read people.

"My mother?" I continued.

"Stefan," Stephen's low voice warned from beside me.

Moriarty picked up a pe