Page 23 of Merciless Heir
“You know how these things work, right?” But color snakes up his cheeks. “And how did you know?”
“Scarlett’s not drinking booze,” says Ryder.
Magnus nods. “All glowing.”
“And,” I say, “you hover like she’s made out of glass.” I look at the others. “They haven’t told anyone, so heading out of the first trimester.”
My brother groans. “I’m in over my head here. But yeah. We’re having a baby.”
The others start talking all over each other and my phone rings. I make my goodbyes and head out into the early afternoon.
By four p.m., I’m frustrated.
Nothing from Sadie. And she still has my damn watch. I’m still working out how she managed to get the leather band opened and it off me without me noticing.
One thing is for certain, I decide as I head to Jenson’s office as I’ve been summoned, I’m going to have to keep a close eye on Sadie. Work with her. Be her fucking shadow if I have to.
But I want the best.
I also don’t appreciate being summoned. The meeting, though, is short and sweet, simply that he went to collect everything as per the instructions from the safe and they were gone. No sign of a break in, nothing.
All I have to do is sign a document stating if the tiara isn’t back then the aforementioned loss of the business begins. To prove this is true, he shows me the paperwork on that, signed and dated before my father’s death.
To really check, I need a copy and I ask. Jenson tells me he’ll forward it to my attorney.
It doesn’t matter, though, because my mother has stakes in the company and while she isn’t there, she’s not about to let it all go on some kind of whim.
Once all that is done, I set out for a walk in the park. I need to think.
The wind is cold and bitter, but the sun warming and the sky clear. The weather’s dichotomy reminds me of the push and pull inside me right now.
Part of me wants to tell them to fuck themselves…not that it’s Jenson’s fault and not that I’d say that to my mother in so many words. She wouldn’t be pleased, to put it mildly, and while I’m not in the habit of doing things to please her, I’m also not in the habit of trying to piss her off.
Let’s just say the world might think we get our ruthlessness from our father, but the deeper vein is very much from her.
I don’t know what she’s up to and why she dropped the scrap of paper. Accident? On purpose? Really, I’m not sure it matters because both questions come to the same answer…Faye Sinclair had Sadie Hess on her mind.
The reasonings?
Asking her isn’t going to get me anywhere.
I’m just going to have to go into this with eyes very wide open, a heavy serving of suspicion, and keeping Sadie where I can see her.
My phone buzzes and I ignore it. Work. They know I’m taking time away from the day to day so if they’re contacting me…
With a sigh, I cut my walk short and pull out my phone.
It’s late when I get home. Work idiocy has been averted, and some social drinks that were business in disguise done and dusted and a quick catch up with an old college friend has pushed the hours back further than I intended.
Still nothing from Sadie.
She’d said she’d get to work and be in touch and I’m thinking I don’t like that arrangement. I want to be there, too. Going through this each step of the way like I planned. Tomorrow morning I’ll call.
When I check my email, I go over the latest information a PI I hired found on break ins to do with jewels—rare, old, coveted, worth a fortune—and art in the last six months. I’d asked if he found a pattern to go back further.
But if what he’s sent is a pattern, I’m not seeing it.
There are no signs of the Raven. And the break ins haven’t been a few things. They’ve been sloppy or random.