Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“Actually, I’m disappointed. If I may speak out of turn, Luxury.”
“You may. Always tell me anything.”
He sips his tea. “You have become family now, Lux. I am appalled, but for a vastly different reason than his abrupt departure. I lied to Victor a few weeks ago.”
I cock my head, not sure what he’s referring to.
“Luxury, I told Victor that there’s no evidence regarding who assisted the sheikh. All this time, I was waiting for a moment to discuss the matter with you.” Burt pauses as if torn by his fatherly duties and something else. Finally, he mutters, “I shouldn’t have brought this up to you at all. I’m being a cantankerous old bloke, and you’ve endured the unimaginable. Forgive me for broaching the subject. You own me nothing, sweetheart.”
I inhale, and my shoulders droop. I take the reins of our conversation. “No, you’re about to tell me . . . that you knew Madeline was there, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Scores of video footage display Ms. Elliott departing the Arlington Estate with your abductor while you were bound. If Victor dies—”
“No. He can’t!”
“His ghost may very well haunt me for the rest of my life. Now, why would you not disclose that wench, Maddy’s, involvement in your disappearance?”
I ask myself that very question every day.
“I’m waiting, Luxury,” Burt prompts. “Victor’s a literal beast. Albeit, I harbor the same sentiments concerning Madeline’s schemes. I’m disappointed that you wouldn’t allow Vic to help. Or even me. She must be dealt with efficiently.”
“She will be!”
“How?” He grips the wheelbase of his wheelchair, spinning abruptly so that instead of us sitting side by side, he can look at me head-on. I can see why Burt grated Victor’s nerves in the past. He fully accepted the role of father figure, which includes a fighting papa bear when required. Just looking into Burt’s assertive blue eyes unnerves me.
All this time, I thought Victor was the dominant. These past few weeks, he tried his best to be all I needed. Now he may die seeking justice. Victor was supposed to break and unleash the dictator in him. Not leave.
I square my shoulders and reply, “Vengeance is mine, Burt. I needed time to deal. Now with Vic gone . . . I won’t forgive myself if I’ve . . .”
Burt shakes his head. “We’re both aware that he doesn’t fare well being denied.”
“God, I can’t believe he left,” I gasp, letting the words filter into the air as if hearing them from my own mouth will allow the danger to sink in. “He wasn’t thinking straight.”
“I assure you; Victor has his cunning ways.” In one breath, Burt comforts me. On the other, he could give Detective Caruso a run for his money by way of his questions. “Did Princess Mary assist Madeline? Did their liaison prompt your silence?”
I hopelessly lift a shoulder. “Not sure and . . . a resounding yes. Would Vic hate me if I learned that his mother knew?”
“He despises his father enough for us to surmise the answer to that. He is capable of hating Princess Mary. That woman has weaseled her way into Victor’s good graces too often. This shall not be one of them.”
I sit back. “I don’t know if his mother helped. Look, Victor will come home.” He has to. “When he does, I hope you’ll keep our secret until I’m ready to find out. If Mary helped Maddy . . .”
Suddenly my vision swims, and I close my eyes for a second. I place my forearms onto the kitchen table and sulk. “Tragedy has followed us for a while, Burt. I need time with Victor when he returns before Madeline pays. She’s probably somewhere afraid of being punished anyway—that consideration actually helps a little.”
“I dare say her mind might be her biggest enemy at this time.”
“Yes, as she wonders when she’ll pay.” When, Luxxie? I clear my throat. “Burt, promise to keep quiet when he arrives. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
Burt pats my hand, too devastated to utter the worries plaguing us.
If Victor returns.
“Be kind to the old bloke while I’m away, Little One. Burt was beside himself before my departure and spoke to a royal as if we are one and the same.”
I stop reading Victor’s first line to stifle a cross between laughter and a sob. His cocky, British tone melds into my ears like it had when we were truly together—before Madeline condemned me to a life not my own.
My body hasn’t melted at the sound of Victor’s voice or because his lips have followed every part of me. Not since Arlington.
If I could take back my words in the garden, fall to my feet, and assist him with planting our flower, I would.
The wind softly whispers over my shoulders while I sit on the same bench. The second I walked out of the kitchen with the news, I laid off the gardener—telling Burt to give him a generous severance. Nobody touches this garden or the conservatory but me until Vic returns. Although I’ll be damned that a flower, which takes years to produce a single bloom, is the only thing I have left of Vic.