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The gravel crunched and heaved under his feet, setting his balance off slightly. He chuckled, amused that it would feel that way. He wasn’t surprised, he’d just left the man he loved and sanctioned his freedom. No collars. No commitment. He’d probably never see him again, and that thought, while saddening, sent a wave of relief through some part of him as he tried to right his footing. Just one woman now. One beautiful, caring, honest woman. And children. He looked at the pathways again, still able to hear Claire’s giggles and laughs. He’d give her one of them, two maybe. Fuck, he didn’t care how many as long as she loved him and held him together now that Pascal couldn’t. His fists tightened at the thought, their grip intent on turning around and telling the man he loved him before he left, but he shook them out instead. No going back.
The decision was made, had to be.
“Elizabeth,” he called, rounding into the back entrance he’d come out through. No sound came back at him. He stopped and listened, waiting for one of their voices. Nothing again. He moved through the rooms, searching for them. Still nothing. Apart from Lilah’s clothes on the floor. He raised a brow, wondering what they’d been up to in here. “Elizabeth?” Still nothing.
His eyes looked at the main door into the palace again, narrowed as he thought of the crowd outside. He flipped them back to where the ledgers had been earlier. The drawing table was empty, and Lilah’s laptop bag on the floor beneath - gone. Alex frowned, unsure if this was something to be concerned about or not. He scanned the room again, hackles telling him something wasn’t right. But this was a palace. There were guards and seniority here. This wasn’t the underworld he’d grown up in, nor was it likely that kidnapping was used as a threat. Still, he couldn’t stop his mind thinking the worst. Criminals lived in all guises, suits and sycophants included.
He knew that well.
He turned and headed back for the garden. Perhaps they’d ventured out there and Lilah had been sensible enough to take everything with her. Not her clothes, obviously, but the ledgers at least. The wide doors were still open, the steps down to the ornate lawns empty of anything but the grandeur and stateliness. He stared out into the area, scanning once more for any sign of them. He looked beyond too, down towards the parkland, and then shook his head. It was possible that Lilah might go barefoot into something private, she was Lilah after all, but not that far.
His eyes searched for Pascal again, noting the crowd of people at the far end of the formal lawns still there talking. Fabrice included. He was laughing about something, and looking far more superior than he had twenty minutes ago. Pascal stood out to the side of them, his shoulders not quite as square as they last were. Fuckers. They would not belittle him. Certainly not Fabrice. The look of him made Alex shove his hands into his pockets, intent on not going to help in any way. It wasn’t his position to do so anymore. He needed to find Elizabeth, that’s all. Lilah would deal with Lilah.
She always did.
He strode down the steps, jogging at the thought of whatever the fuck this was turning into. She must be here somewhere. Women didn’t just fall off the face of the planet because he’d left them for half an hour. He searched corners, rounded balustrades and headed down more steps in the hope of seeing them. Nothing again. He stood and glared at the place, unsure what the fuck to think, until eventually he flicked out his phone and texted the only person here he trusted.
Did he know where they were?
The response was immediate.
- No. And they may need you. The hunt is on, dear boy. Find them.
Rage and fury spiked inside him. He didn’t know what at, or who, but someone was getting something. He stormed back up the steps, heading through the formal gardens straight towards the group of apparent decency at the end of them. Pascal looked at him from the distance and shook his head, pointing his cane stealthily back towards the palace at the same time. He stopped and changed direction, searching the second and third floor rooms with his eyes for sign of life. Where would they be? The place was enormous, and not somewhere he’d been in before. He entered via the same set of doors and turned right instead of left, and was instantly hindered by more ornate doors. He pushed. They didn’t budge, so he turned and glanced back at the west wing. He’d go back into the main palace, find his way from there.
It was quiet as he travelled through the rooms, all of them littered with everything Pascal was. Finery. Jewels. Ancient paintings of family portraits and landscapes, war even. He smirked at one of them, a man in it resembling Pascal’s features as he strode towards an opposing force in a battle scene. Hunting. Idiot. And now they were here, presumably being made to hunt for the things most precious to them. The cunt had probably had them taken somewhere in an attempt to threaten Pascal into bowing down. They all fucking knew, didn’t they? Fabrice must have known all along, knew this time would come for him eventually. He imagined the women in a dungeon, bound. That would be fine, certainly given the amount of pain Elizabeth could take when she centred herself. Lilah, too. They both knew how to handle themselves. They’d been under him enough to prove any other hands inefficient compared to his.
The ledgers, Thomas’s. He stopped and thought of them, eyes focused on his own ability to coerce if need be. Presumably they were from Thomas’s father’s side of the family. He would know more than just those documents. Must do. There must be more than just those two files. He pulled out his phone again and dialled the number, ambling through the corridors and regal displays of fortune to find stairs downwards. Everything was held captive downwards. Dungeons. Basements. This place probably had old jails or cells from the wars, rebellious rivals kept in them and tortured.
The call answered.
“Alexander?”
“Thomas. The ledgers in London. Where are the rest of them kept?”
“What?”
“You had two red ledgers in London in the safe at Eden. Are there more?” The phone went silent. “Thomas?”
“I don’t understand what …”
“Speak. Don’t fucking think. Where are they kept?” The sound of a door closing echoed through the line. Muffled voices before it.
“They are possibly at the ancestral seat. Oom, would know which room. State room perhaps, or the law quarters. Why?” Alex’s eyes pinched to slits, as he wandered into another room and looked at all the books on show. A library. He scanned the leather bound volumes of works, trying to see anything that resembled ledgers.
“Did you know?” he said, ready to kill the bastard if he did.
“Know what?”
“That this crap I’m walking around was still all his?” More silence. It infuriated Alex, making his fists tighten and every contemptible thought of corruption come racing into his mind. “I’m here. Now. With both Elizabeth and Lilah missing while your uncle tries to negotiate his way around whatever fucking plot you clearly know something about. I suggest you damn well talk before I drag you into it.” He pushed through to another room, not having a damn clue where he was heading and still looking for downstairs floors. There wasn’t any. “And how the fuck do you get into the basements? Quietly?”
“There were whispers in the family. Talk of something in the past, but I did not know for sure.” Alex listened and carried on, more doors opened and then rooms walked through. “Oom will not talk of it. He never allows me to discuss the seat. He is disgusted the moment I mention …”
“Why did you have those two ledgers then?”
“Father gave them to me. He told me to keep them safe and away from the home country. I never knew why. I have never really looked through them or cared.” Stupid. Alex huffed and thought of all the documents he hadn’t looked at these last few years either, all of them with his own damn signature on.
“The basements? I need to get in without anyone knowing.”
