Page 42 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

“I’d appreciate it if you could ask around; keep your eyes and ears open for any snippets of information about our party princess and these two daughters of Ezra King.”

I jerked my attention away from Zach’s scrutiny and shuffled around a few invoices. “Why on earth would I help you?”

Zach jerked open my office door and lingered there. His ink-black hair flopped onto his brow. “Because I helped you this morning with all the crêpe you were carrying.”

“Oh, very funny.”

Zach gave me a shadow of a smile. “You’d receive payment of course, for any valuable tip-offs. Would come in handy, I’m sure, some extra money, seeing as you’ve only been open a few months.”

He hesitated.

“It’s not going to be easy,” he admitted, surprising me with his unusual candour. “Especially if this aristo’s parents have sections of the press in their pockets.” He ground his jaw. “I’ve known for that to happen before. But I don’t give up and I don’t give in, Bailey. On anything.”

I blushed, feeling heat shoot up my neck. Cue more paper flapping.

“See you again soon,” he murmured, his attention lingering on my face.

I watched him stride out of Flower Power in his flapping, long coat. Amber’s admiring eyes trailed after him, while worry took great bites out of me.

* * *

I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the morning.

I faffed around with a couple of birthday bouquets and attempted to come up with something interesting for my suggested “Plants of the Week” for the shop’s social media accounts, but failed. Zach kept drifting into my mind and it unsettled me.

In the end, I used Marcus as my excuse to take an early lunch and disappear back up to my flat.

“Why are you so quiet, A? What’s going on?” asked my brother.

A battle was raging inside of me as to whether I should confide in him.

He had enough to contend with at the moment, nursing his broken heart, without being told that his baby sister might find herself splashed across the newspapers – again – taking with her the rest of the family. Snapshots of their horrified faces loomed in front of my eyes.

Oh God.

Mum would need to lie down in a darkened room for the next three months.

But the other half of me was desperate to offload. Tell him! screamed my inner voice. He has a right to know. He’s your brother.

What if I didn’t confide in Marcus and Zach did unearth everything? My brother wouldn’t forgive me. I knew if the situation were reversed and Marcus found himself caught up in something like this, I’d want to know. If I found out he hadn’t told me, I would be livid.

I eyed his holdall which was currently regurgitating clothes onto the chair in the spare room.

We never kept secrets from one another. When we were younger, we always took the blame for each other’s misdemeanours.

“Anastasia.”

I snapped my attention back to my brother and sighed.

I pushed back any lingering doubts and steeled myself. “I’ve got something to tell you. It’s about Declan.”

Marcus contorted his mouth. “The prick!” His expression grew serious. “Hold on. He’s not here, is he? Has he reappeared? He’s not threatening you?”

“No, well, he’s not here in Heather Moore, or at least I don’t think he is.”

Marcus frowned across the bed at me. “What are you talking about?”

I picked at the bedspread. “It turns out that a drunk, dishevelled Declan accosted the editor of Stargazer magazine the other day in Glasgow. Said his name was Sean. He blabbed that he’d been in a relationship with the Bollinger Babe and almost married her – until he got cold feet.”