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Thinking of what could have been breaking news right now, I thank God that Ryder intercepted the article. But how? How did my system not pick it up and why was it approved on auto?
Sam lifts his mug and says thoughtfully. “Any idea how it slipped through the net?”
“I’m hoping our visitor can explain that.”
He nods. “Do you think she’s a spy?”
“Possibly, but who for?”
“A rival mogul perhaps, someone out to seize your crown.”
“I doubt it. I think this goes way past that.”
“In what way?” Sam looks interested, and I shrug. “Personal stuff.”
He nods and knows better than to question me because the Five Kings is an organization only I know about. It’s safer that way and the less anybody outside the organization knows, the better, which is why Holly’s article is so toxic because there was information in there that could only have come from the inside out.
My good mood vanishes when I think about what’s at stake and I think long and hard through breakfast about how I’m going to approach this.
By the time we’ve finished and Sam heads off to do what I pay him for, I am left to contemplate the day ahead.
Maisy clears away and I say quickly, “Has she eaten yet?”
“I was waiting for you; shall I take her a tray?”
“I’ll do it.”
She nods and I know she can’t wait to catch a look at the woman I’ve got under lock and key, but it’s best to keep Holly away from the homestead and extract my information in a closed environment.
As I take the tray and begin the walk, I wonder what I’ll find. She’s sure to be pissed and will probably try to fight her way out. The thought amuses me and I almost hope she does.
That’s why I’m surprised when I open the door and head inside, to find her sitting on the chair facing me, with her hands in her lap, looking as if she’s about to attend an interview.
She fixes me with a steady gaze and none of the fear I expected to find. The room has a musty smell and I notice the bed has been tidied and the woman herself appears composed and unemotional.
For a moment we just stare at one another and I look for any flicker of fear and feel annoyed there is only a slight spark of derision in her eyes. She looks as if I’m a pile of shit that blew in and, for some reason, that excites me more than her fear.
“Holly.”
I set the tray down on the bed and say abruptly, “Your breakfast, I’m guessing you must be hungry.”
Just the slight tremble to her bottom lip reveals how many emotions she’s hiding right now, and she nods.
“Thank you.”
I’m curious because she’s acting as if this is a normal daily event and it throws me a little, so I say blankly, “Any questions?”
“It appears that you are the one with questions, Mr. Prince, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”
“Good answer.”
“Was it a test, forgive me, I would have studied for it if I’d known?”
I lean against the back of the door and fix her with a dead look.
“Aren’t you curious, you’re a reporter, it should be second nature to ask questions?”
“I figured you’d get around to telling me why you fired me for doing my job in a callous, brutal way and then kidnapped me and imprisoned me in a shit palace.”
