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“That works,” I murmured.
The grin returned.
Between us, Sofia gave a massive yawn that was big enough to interrupt her rendition of “London Bridge.”
I looked up at Xavier. “I think the restaurant and the rest will have to wait, though. Can we start with a nap? She didn’t sleep well on the way here.”
Xavier’s hard edges softened a bit more. “Of course. I should have thought of it in the first place.”
His guilt was palpable. He was getting much better at anticipating Sofia’s needs, but I could tell he still felt horrible when he missed something so basic. Things like car seats and naptimes weren’t quite on his radar yet.
“Ben,” he called up front. “Back to Mayfair.”
TWO
“Why all the press?” I asked while we waited for an elevator inside the lobby of a gorgeous Georgian building. In other words, relatively modern as London design went, but still practically ancient to my American eyes.
Mayfair was full of this type of architecture, white stone facades and curling millwork that decorated the outsides of otherwise modernized flats or, if the residents were wealthy enough, three and four-story houses that lined curving streets sandwiched between Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, and the lively Soho district. Xavier’s building was the tallest of them all, high enough that its top floors had a solid view down to the Thames—or so he said.
Jagger had taken the car to attend to whatever restaurant issues needed fixing so that Xavier could accompany me, Sofia, and Elsie up to his apartment.
Beside me, Elsie arched one gray-flecked brow at my question but said nothing.
“Er—” Xavier looked somewhat ashamed. “Sort of bad luck, really.The Guardianran a profile on me and the Parker Group last week. Part of the new push for Chez Miso and also Chie’s opening in New York. But then the tabloids sort of picked it up alongside my uncle’s disappearance. And then someone tipped them off that you were coming. Then about Sof. And here we are?”
I frowned. “Someone ‘tipped them off’ about Sofia and me? Who would do that?”
He blinked. Elsie looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“To be honest, it doesn’t matter,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter who’s gossiping about us? You and I literally just got back together. Only a few people really even know I exist.”
Xavier just huffed and stared at the ceiling. “Honestly, Ces, if I worried about every cook or hostess who passed on some bit of conversation they overheard in the restaurant, I’d have to fire every person who works for me. It’s not worth our time or energy to figure it out.”
I glanced at Elsie, who was only watching Xavier with an expression that looked almost like regret.
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside.
“But why is your uncle still such a story?” I pressed as the doors closed. “You found him, didn’t you?”
Xavier had only shared the bare minimum over the last six weeks, generally preferring to keep our daily phone calls to matters concerning Sofia and our impending move to London. Our conversations had been friendly, but to my disappointment, not particularly deep or emotive. He just wasn’t a phone person.
Although he did like sending suggestive texts. Those were fun.
His uncle, however, was the reason we were in London at all. Henry Parker’s sudden disappearance last spring forced Xavier to cancel his plans to expand his restaurant empire to other cities in the US. Parker wasn’t lost anymore, but not, so far as I had gathered, in a state to continue running the family’s portfolio of holdings.
There my knowledge on the matter ended.
“Well, someone found him, yeah,” Xavier said. “The old man had a stroke when he was hunting in Scotland. Don’t know why he was up there alone in the first place. First rule of stalking—go with someone or tell them where you’ve gone. It’s too easy to get lost in the Highlands.” He shook his head. “Bloody Georgina.”
“That’s your stepmother, right?” I asked, trying to remember our earlier conversations.
Xavier nodded. “Narcissistic bit—of a disaster,” he recovered with a sharp look at Sofia, who was watching him expectantly for profanity. She earned more off her dad than her uncle—and that was saying something, given my brother’s penchant for cursing.
“She’s quite the treat,” Elsie added dryly.
“She’s probably the one who put him up to it,” Xavier added. “All she wants is the place to herself. Can’t stand the way he curbs her spending and the like.” He shook his head with obvious disgust. “Anyway, a sheep farmer found him and brought him to the hospital. Took nearly three weeks for him to get enough speech back to say who he was. That’s why we didn’t find him right away.”
