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“On my honor. I swear you won’t. You will just sit back and let me present the evidence in the best way possible. It’s for his own good.”
Releasing a breath, I shrug. “You’ve known him for your whole life. He’s your big brother. If you say that it’s handled, then I guess I can keep my lips zipped for a week.”
A male voice says something in the background on Saffron’s end. She rolls her eyes and nods to whoever is talking.
“I have to go. But I’m glad we talked! I’m going to dig into all of this in the morning.”
I give her a weak smile. “Talk soon.”
Saffron ends the call. I’m left sitting on the floor, full of misgivings.
How am I supposed to lie to Keir?
Blowing out a breath, I push the entire situation out of my mind and focus on stretching my leg.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
When I step off my private plane in Rome, I shade my eyes against the flare of the setting sun. The air is stifling here and my shirt immediately begins to stick to my back.
I’m really on vacation now. That fact makes the corners of my mouth curl up.
“Lord Grayrose?” Natasha asks, dragging a large handbag down the steps. “I’m not sure where the limousine is… it’s supposed to be here already.”
Just like that, my excitement begins to fade. I’m not actually on vacation… I just shoehorned a little sightseeing into what will otherwise be another very boring business trip. At least I don’t have to worry about a particular nosy journalist poking her nose in my affairs.
But that knowledge doesn’t stop my shoulders from drooping just a hair.
Behind us, Ella helps Isla down the stairs. They are chatting about what they are experiencing, all but ignoring me. Fair, since I spent most of the plane ride under a mountain of work.
“Wow!” Isla says, halfway shrieking. “It’s so hot! Did you bring your bathing suit?”
“I definitely packed bathing suits for both of us.” Ella shields her eyes. “Are you going to swim in the ocean?”
“Yes!” Isla says, looking happier than she has for a long time. “It’s nice to be somewhere else.”
The idea strikes me suddenly that maybe staying at Drummond Castle isn’t really in Isla’s best interest. Why that hasn’t ever occurred to me, I’m not sure.
But watching her with Ella, skipping around this tarmac outside Rome, it’s pretty fucking obvious.
I stop on the tarmac, sliding my sleeve up to check my watch. A prickle of anger arises and I glance at Natasha.
“Where is our SUV?”
She opens her mouth to answer, but just then a yellow taxi drives onto the tarmac. Squinting at it, I feel my blood pressure rising as it draws closer. Natasha presses her knuckles to her lips.
“Those idiots at the car rental desk must have screwed it up,” she blurts out. “They hardly spoke any English when I was making the reservations.”
I arch a brow. “How did they mistake an SUV for a yellow taxi?”
“I… I don’t know.” Natasha flushes and sneaks a look at Ella. “You and I should get the first taxi. And then I can call for a second taxi when we arrive at the penthouse.”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t get angry. But this bullshit is throwing a kink in those plans.” I tilt my head. Eyeing Natasha skeptically, I shake my head. “That’s a terrible idea. You and Ella can go ahead. I’ll call for another taxi.”
“Oh, I thought that you would want to work—”
I cut her off. “No.”
Natasha’s brows rise. “Oh. Ummm… let me see if there is still an SUV available…”
