“You’re married?”
“Are you flirting with me now?” Before Rachelle had time to answer, Reggie started laughing. “Don’t get your panties all in a tangle. I’m happily married. But you need to relax. Unlike our apocalyptic American media implies, not every day is the end of the world.”
Reggie certainly wasn’t shy when it came to sharing his opinions. What was his real role in the household? Not that it’s my business. My brother won’t even answer my texts. That’s a pretty clear message. “I’d welcome an apocalypse tonight. I’m going to bed.”
“You want to know what I’ve learned from the English?”
Rachelle sighed. “Why not?”
“Don’t run. Go out in public tomorrow as if nothing happened. Your brother is attacked in the media on a regular basis. What they don’t know they make up. You’ll lose yourself if you start to care what social media says about you.”
Now I feel bad about calling him Lurch in my head earlier. “Thanks, Reggie. That’s actually good advice.”
“You don’t need to sound shocked. I’m a lot smarter than I look.” Rachelle opened her mouth to say something, but Reggie continued, “There’s no good response to that.”
Rachelle laughed because he was right. “Good night, Reggie. Thanks.”
“So, no car tomorrow?”
“No, you’re right. I’ve never been one to run away. I can’t leave before I talk to Eric one more time. I’ll tell him I love him, and then I’ll go home. If he doesn’t want a relationship with me, I’ll respect his decision.”
“You’re not the complete whack job I thought you were when you first arrived.”
Rachelle laughed again and started up the stairs. “See you tomorrow, Reggie.”
“Keep him there. I’m on my way,” Magnus barked into his cell phone before repeating the address to his driver. Magnus dropped his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and flexed his shoulders. Whatever Westerly was doing in a poorer section of London was about to come to an abrupt end, just as Magnus’s good mood had.
The sadness in Rachelle’s eyes when she’d realized her brother had left without her haunted Magnus. He considered regret a waste of time, but he didn’t like that he’d contributed to how badly her night had ended. He understood the practice of serving someone’s head up on a platter, because he would gladly have done so with Westerly’s if he thought it would bring comfort to Rachelle.
Instead, he’d settle for the bastard apologizing to her. Magnus didn’t doubt for a second that Westerly would be willing to by the time he was finished with him.
His car pulled over to the side of the road in front of a run-down building. Magnus double-checked the address against the one he’d been given, half convinced there must be a mistake. Then he saw one of his most trusted men leaning against a tree nearby. He straightened as Magnus exited the car. “What’s he doing here?”
Phillip shrugged. “We followed him, as you asked. He stopped once to change cars, then came here. And there’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“His nose was bigger when he got out of the car. At first I thought I imagined it, but I think he wears a disguise.”
Magnus looked up at the apartment building. “Interesting.”
“Do you want backup, Magnus?” He spoke with the familiarity of someone who knew that Magnus didn’t care about titles when in private.
“No. I’m good. Is he alone?”
“It’s impossible to say.”
Magnus nodded and took the steps of the building two at a time before ringing the doorbell. He knocked loudly, knocked again, then tested if it was locked. It was. Shaking his head, he stepped back, assessed the old door for a weak point, and kicked to the left of the doorknob. It crashed open.
When the sound brought no one to meet him, Magnus entered slowly, scanning each room he passed. The living room was furnished, if cheaply, and it smelled musty. The bedroom next to it was empty. He opened the door to the next room, and his lip curled in response to what he saw. Fully clothed and sprawled across a bed lay Westerly. The needle he’d used to inject himself rested at his side.
“Fuck.”
You can’t break a man who’s already broken.
Chapter Six
Back in the United States.
At nearly eighty-two, Delinda Westerly was forced to accept pain, in some fashion or another, as a constant companion. The clock running down on her life made every moment matter; there was so much she didn’t want to leave undone. It also freed her from worrying what people thought of her—not that she’d ever valued the opinion of many. Born into wealth and tested through tragedy, Delinda knew she’d have some explaining to do at the pearly gates, but if she were given her life to do over, she wouldn’t do much differently.
The door of her solarium flew open, and Hailey Tiverton, her grandson’s fiancée, rushed into the room. “I came as soon as I saw your text. What’s wrong?”
Looking worried, Alessandro Andrade, a man Delinda loved like a son, strode in. His mother, a woman who had been one of Delinda’s dear friends, would be proud of the patriarch he’d become. “Did you call the doctor? Is he on his way?”
Hailey sank to her knees beside Delinda’s chair, searching her face. “Where’s Michael?” She laid a hand on Delinda’s forehead to check for a fever.
Delinda smacked her hand away. “Michael is making travel arrangements for me. I don’t need a doctor.”
Hailey took out her phone. “I don’t understand. You asked me to come over because you were sick and almost dead.”
“What?” Delinda squinted at Hailey’s phone screen. She reached for her glasses and made a face at what appeared to be a text from her that said exactly that.
Alessandro sat in a chair next to Delinda. “I received the same message.”
“Because I included both of you in one of those group-message things. Spencer assured me that texting was better than calling, but I don’t see how, when my phone takes literary license with what I enunciate into it.” She pushed the phone away. “I said, ‘I’m sickened by what I just read.’”
Hailey rose to her feet and laid a hand over her heart. “I tried to call you back, and when you didn’t answer, I almost called 911. If we didn’t live so close, I would have.”
“I was on my way over or I would have done the same,” Alessandro said, shaking his head. “You aged me today, Delinda.”
Delinda pursed her lips briefly. Apologies had never come easily to her, but these were two of her friends as well as her family. “It’s a new phone, and it kept beeping and binging to the point that I silenced it. They call it a smartphone, but it announces everything like some bumbling idiot.” She sighed. “I didn’t mean to worry either of you.”
“It’s fine,” Hailey said. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“My health may not be in immediate decline, but I am far from okay.” She reached for her tablet and woke it with a tap. “I knew Rachelle shouldn’t have gone off to London without me. Look at what they’re saying about her.”
“Come now, it can’t be all that bad,” Alessandro said in a tone he often used when he thought Delinda was working herself up over nothing. He might be nearly sixty, but she still saw the precocious and carefree boy he’d once been. Delinda handed him the tablet and showed him a video clip of Prince Magnus walking away from Rachelle, followed by a slew of nasty comments.
Hailey gasped. “Oh, that is bad. People are horrible. Poor Rachelle.”
“It’s being translated and shared everywhere. How would you feel if this was about Maddy?” Delinda asked.