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42
As Zeke followedthe two guards through a side entrance into what appeared to be someone’s office, he wondered what the hell his team was cooking up.
One moment they were chattering in his ear and, the next—dead silence.
Like the public areas of the mansion, the office—or was it a study?—looked as if it had been staged for an AD photo shoot.
Even though it had to be seventy degrees outside, a gas fireplace cast flickering yellow-gold shadows against the hardwood floor at the far end of the room. A sideboard containing an array of hand-cut crystal decanters filled with amber liquid sat below a large oil painting of stampeding horses. A stonework wall with black metal shelving housed modern and antique books as well as illuminated frames bearing smiling mugs of miniature St. Martins. A large, severely clean desk sat facing away from a bank of windows and short-legged, squat-backed chairs and a matching sofa dotted the space.
His well-mannered, but firm, escorts encouraged him to sit on the trendy, but uncomfortable, creamy sofa. He tore off his mask, shrugged off his cape, and unfastened his scabbard before taking a seat. He rested Lupos against his right knee. Within easy reach.
Phin stormed in after the last guard, avoiding the Goliath’s big paw.
Zeke sat forward. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“The better question,” Phin said in a savage voice, “ is what are you doing here?”
Zeke looked at the guards, then sat back. “Go home, Phin. I can handle this on my own.”
“Like you’re so good at handling things on your own.”
Crushing his teeth together, he kept his mouth shut. Now wasn’t the time to work through his family’s grievances with him.
Phin held his stare. “I’m not leaving your side until I find out what the hell is going on.”
Shaking his head, Zeke draped his arm over the back of the sofa and focused on the door. Waited for the performance to begin.
Minutes later, his patience was rewarded when Nicola, Hugh, and Dr. Bentley sailed into the room.
Hugh continued on to the sideboard and poured himself a drink, Bentley moved to stand in front of the marble fireplace, and Nicola glided toward Zeke. She stared at him in that disappointed way mothers do when they catch their son placing maggots in his sister’s underwear drawer.
Despite his body’s desire to squirm under her regard, he kept his gaze steady and unflinching.
She held out her hand. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
Zeke crossed his ankle over his knee and rubbed his thumb over a small scuff on his boot. “I assure you, I don’t.”
“The sword, Mr. Blackwell. Give it to me.”
He rested his free hand on the sword’s hilt. Something he had worried would never happen in his lifetime. He smoothed his thumb over each of the four wolf heads on the pommel. “How did you come into possession of this piece?”
Nicola’s hand slowly lowered to her side, and anger burrowed into her forehead. “The same way I acquire all my treasures. I bought it.”
“From whom?”
“I don’t discuss my business dealings with anyone.”
Hugh lifted a glass in their direction. “Not even me.”
“Then we have a problem.”
“You have a problem.” She signaled to one of her guards.
In a blink, Phin moved to stand beside him. Zeke wouldn’t have been able to articulate the depth of his appreciation at that precise moment if he tried.
Nicola held up a staying hand to her guard.
Zeke couldn’t help but note how calm he felt. A few weeks ago, he would’ve been yelling or punching or blowing up shit to get himself out of this. A few weeks ago, he didn’t love Liv.
