Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire #3)(14)

“That didn’t even happen.”

“So that’s not you?”

“That’s me.” She played the video back. “But it’s playing backward. Magnus followed me to the car, and I left him standing there.”

“It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. What time would you like the car?” He reached for his phone.

Rachelle clung to it and played the video clip again. “It’s so vicious. Who would do this?” She remembered Magnus saying he would use her to get to her brother. Was this what he meant? Did he think that by hurting her he could hurt Eric? If so, the joke is on him. My brother would have to care about me to care about this.

“Let me see it again.” Reggie snatched his phone. “You’re right, it’s playing backward. Can’t believe I didn’t realize it. It was probably because of the snappy caption.”

“You mean cruel.”

Reggie repocketed his phone. “You left a prince standing on a curb. Not bad for your first premiere.”

Rachelle laughed, because if she didn’t she would cry. “How many children do you have?”

“Two.”

“You’re married?”

“Are you flirting with me now?” Before Rachelle had time to answer, Reggie started laughing. “Don’t get your panties all in a tangle. I’m happily married. But you need to relax. Unlike our apocalyptic American media implies, not every day is the end of the world.”

Reggie certainly wasn’t shy when it came to sharing his opinions. What was his real role in the household? Not that it’s my business. My brother won’t even answer my texts. That’s a pretty clear message. “I’d welcome an apocalypse tonight. I’m going to bed.”

“You want to know what I’ve learned from the English?”

Rachelle sighed. “Why not?”

“Don’t run. Go out in public tomorrow as if nothing happened. Your brother is attacked in the media on a regular basis. What they don’t know they make up. You’ll lose yourself if you start to care what social media says about you.”

Now I feel bad about calling him Lurch in my head earlier. “Thanks, Reggie. That’s actually good advice.”

“You don’t need to sound shocked. I’m a lot smarter than I look.” Rachelle opened her mouth to say something, but Reggie continued, “There’s no good response to that.”

Rachelle laughed because he was right. “Good night, Reggie. Thanks.”

“So, no car tomorrow?”

“No, you’re right. I’ve never been one to run away. I can’t leave before I talk to Eric one more time. I’ll tell him I love him, and then I’ll go home. If he doesn’t want a relationship with me, I’ll respect his decision.”

“You’re not the complete whack job I thought you were when you first arrived.”

Rachelle laughed again and started up the stairs. “See you tomorrow, Reggie.”



“Keep him there. I’m on my way,” Magnus barked into his cell phone before repeating the address to his driver. Magnus dropped his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and flexed his shoulders. Whatever Westerly was doing in a poorer section of London was about to come to an abrupt end, just as Magnus’s good mood had.

The sadness in Rachelle’s eyes when she’d realized her brother had left without her haunted Magnus. He considered regret a waste of time, but he didn’t like that he’d contributed to how badly her night had ended. He understood the practice of serving someone’s head up on a platter, because he would gladly have done so with Westerly’s if he thought it would bring comfort to Rachelle.

Instead, he’d settle for the bastard apologizing to her. Magnus didn’t doubt for a second that Westerly would be willing to by the time he was finished with him.

His car pulled over to the side of the road in front of a run-down building. Magnus double-checked the address against the one he’d been given, half convinced there must be a mistake. Then he saw one of his most trusted men leaning against a tree nearby. He straightened as Magnus exited the car. “What’s he doing here?”

Phillip shrugged. “We followed him, as you asked. He stopped once to change cars, then came here. And there’s one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“His nose was bigger when he got out of the car. At first I thought I imagined it, but I think he wears a disguise.”

Magnus looked up at the apartment building. “Interesting.”

“Do you want backup, Magnus?” He spoke with the familiarity of someone who knew that Magnus didn’t care about titles when in private.

“No. I’m good. Is he alone?”

“It’s impossible to say.”

Magnus nodded and took the steps of the building two at a time before ringing the doorbell. He knocked loudly, knocked again, then tested if it was locked. It was. Shaking his head, he stepped back, assessed the old door for a weak point, and kicked to the left of the doorknob. It crashed open.

When the sound brought no one to meet him, Magnus entered slowly, scanning each room he passed. The living room was furnished, if cheaply, and it smelled musty. The bedroom next to it was empty. He opened the door to the next room, and his lip curled in response to what he saw. Fully clothed and sprawled across a bed lay Westerly. The needle he’d used to inject himself rested at his side.