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Where is Ella right now? And how close is she to leaving in a rage after being with Isla for only a few days?
Quickly working at the top two buttons of my shirt, I let out a breath and pull at the necklace lying just beneath. It’s simple enough, just a single strand of platinum links with two platinum rings on it. Originally, there is one ring for me and one ring for Kingsley. A long time ago, sure, but keeping the rings close by helps me to focus. When I’m thinking of new strategies to take on the corporate media world, I often find the rings to be a soothing distraction. I lift them out of my shirt and clink them together, pulling them one way on the chain and then the other.
Hell, I think the rings have become something of a thinking tool for me. They allow me to space out and live in the world of my dreams for a moment while still being grounded.
At the moment, my thoughts are on Ella. On her petite figure, her lithe frame, her sensual lips. The way that she looks at me from those amber eyes, tilting her head back just so when she is on the verge of saying something… And her cheeks are flush…
“Sir?”
I startle and look up at my chauffeur. He clears his throat and waves a hand to indicate my arrival. “We’re here, sir.”
“All right.” I let myself out of the car, wondering all the while where the last hour went. As I clamber out of the backseat, my attention turns to the state of the castle itself. It’s disgraceful, I know. That ruined burned end of the castle looks dreadful. But in order to repair it, I would have to invite more people into our lives. And the more people that I invite in, the less privacy Isla and I have.
Straightening my jacket, I stand still and squint at the castle. It seems to stare back at me, impassive, almost mocking, if you will.
I watch as the chauffeur transfers my luggage to the grand entrance. A prickle of sensation skitters down from my scalp to my neck and the fine hair there is raised. Someone is watching. I turn my head to find a sleek white Mercedes Benz nosing its way up the incline of the driveway. At first, I literally don’t know what to think. My heart pounds for a moment, my body tensing, ready to fight.
Could it be another of Kingsley's boyfriends, looking for a payday? It wouldn’t be the first time that she sent someone here to do her bidding. Then again, the white car is clearly much more expensive than the usual addicts and lowlifes that Kingsley runs around with.
That doesn’t tell me anything about who I am watching approach my house though.
The car stops about sixty yards from where I’m standing and the driver’s side door opens. An elegant brunette pokes her head out, looking around through expensive-looking sunglasses.
I raise my eyebrows and she steps out more, leaving the car door open. She has on a large gray overcoat wrapped around her body tightly and she seems chic yet utterly unprepared for the realities of rural Scotland. As she approaches, she whips her sunglasses off, smiling at me just a bit.
From that, I surmise that she is here to see me. Before she can get a word out, I stop her in her tracks with my voice.
“What are you doing here? This is private land. There are notices all up and down this stretch of driveway.”
The chauffeur steps close to me, exchanging a glance with me. He seems ready to fight, perhaps recalling his last run-in with Kingsley’s addict ex-boyfriend.
The woman smiles at both of us and stops, but extends her hand rather boldly. “Lord Grayrose?”
I fold my arms across my chest and glare at her. “Did you not hear what I said? This is private property. You’re trespassing. I’ll have my man here call the cops if you don’t leave right now.”
The woman falters and drops her hand but never breaks eye contact. “I think you’re under some sort of misapprehension about me. I don’t know who you think I am, but I am here about a friend of mine.” She opens her gray overcoat, showing just a flash of black silk. Whipping a page out of her voluminous coat, she waves it in my face. I look at it and instantly feel the blood begin to drain from my face.
She’s holding up a picture of the journalist, the dark-haired young man that approached Ella and I with blackmail material.
Steeling my expression, I give her a stony glance. “Why would you think that?” I demand imperiously.
Her lips twitch. “Max took notes. Copious amounts of notes. He didn’t refer to exactly why he was so interested in you, Lord Grayrose. But he left a note saying that he was supposed to meet you outside of the Montlake Hotel last Saturday. Coincidentally, he was found dead crossing the street to meet you. I came to follow up with you and see if you knew what he wanted or if there was anything you could tell me about his mysterious death.”
My mouth tastes dry. I make an effort to keep myself from licking my lips. “I don’t see what that has to do with us. And as I said, you’re on private property.” Turning to my driver, I drag a hand through my hair. “Go call the police.”
The woman continues to smile, waving her hands at me. “No, no,” she says. “No police are needed. Honestly. I’ll be so quick, you won’t even notice that I was ever here. Really, I just have a couple of questions about why you were talking with Max. If you can just tell me that, I’ll leave. You see, I was his partner, not just romantically but also in reporting. His researcher, as he liked to call me. My name is Wendy Allen, by the way. It’s nice to meet you, Lord Grayrose.”
The chauffeur hesitates and I wave a hand dismissively at him. “Go call the police. If they get here before Miss Allen leaves, there will be very serious consequences.” I smile at her, an edge of steel behind my eyes.
Wendy smiles back at me, mirroring the same hard nose smile. “Can you answer my question?”
“Look,” I say to her. “I saw your boyfriend get killed. Okay? Is that what you wanted to know?”
Her smile dims and she goes pale, her hand clutching at her coats. “You… You what?”
“Your boyfriend, Max? He was asking me about some business affiliates, some investment firm I work for or worked with or something? I’m not even sure really. I agreed to meet him, just to get him to lay off the questioning. I had no information for him. But I did see him get hit by that car. He was crossing the street, the car came right at him and…” I shake my head, shrugging just a little bit. “It was tragic. I watched it all from the curb. It was fast.”
Wendy opens her mouth, questioning, but not knowing exactly what she wants to say. Her brows are risen, her eyes are wide.
