"Hello," she said coldly.
A muscle quivered in Kesley's cheek. He nodded curtly to the girl. "Hello."
She ignored him and turned to Miguel. "Is this the man to whom you're selling me, sire?"
Miguel grimaced. "You wound me, girl. I'll leave the two of you together to talk."
"No!" she said imperiously, but it was too late. Miguel, with an enigmatic smile, had bowed and stepped backward into the waiting elevator. The panel slid shut. The wall was once again unbroken.
Slowly, she turned to face Kesley. "I won't have any part of this! I don't belong to Miguel! He can't give me away like this—to a commoner!"
Kesley smiled. "Your nostrils flare very nicely when you're angry, milady."
She whirled and stalked across the room, where she stood, her back to him. Kesley grinned amiably. This display of temper was enjoyable. The girl had spirit. Kesley liked that.
"Miguel called you his daughter," he said loudly. "How come? That's impossible, of course."
"How do you know?" she snapped, turning to face him. Her dark eyes glittered angrily. "I'm Miguel's daughter. Who says I'm not?"