Claim Me(137)

“One of?” Damien interrupts indignantly.

“My most important client,” Charles corrects with a laugh. “When he sends me a text outlining an urgent matter, I set the wheels in motion.”

I glance at Damien, realizing that sometime last night, despite everything else, he actually found the time to do this for me.

“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you both.”

“It’s only a start.” Damien looks at Charles. “Did you bring the footage?”

Charles pushes some papers on the coffee table aside and comes up with a DVD. “Everything that’s aired so far, and as much of the raw footage from outside Nikki’s condo as we could obtain.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Someone leaked this story,” Damien says. “I intend to find out who.”

“But you just said that if it’s the truth there’s nothing you can do legally.”

“No,” Damien says with a thin, dangerous smile. “There’s not a damn thing I can do legally. But I want to know who did this to you. Don’t ask me to stop, Nikki. Because I won’t.”

“I’m not going to ask,” I say. The truth is, I want to know, too. “But how is looking at the footage going to help?”

“I’m going to identify all of the reporters asking you questions,” he says. “And then Charles or I will have a little talk with each of them.”

It is probably very wrong of me, but I can’t help but wish that I could be a fly in the room during those conversations.

“Anything else?” Damien asks.

“Not about this.” Charles glances toward me. “But Germany is heating up, Damien. They have the janitor now. We need to expect the worst.”




“I always expect the worst,” Damien says. “It’s how I’ve survived so long.”

“There are other issues in Europe,” Charles says. “You really should—”

“I know,” Damien says, with a quick glance toward me. “But I’m tied up here at the moment.”

“Wait,” I say. “I may not know the details of what’s going on, but if the company’s having legal trouble overseas and you need to be there, then go. I’ll be fine.”

“She’s right,” Charles says. “You’re needed in London.”

I’m surprised that Charles has mentioned London and not Germany. “Sofia?” I ask, and can’t help but notice the surprised look that Charles shoots at Damien.

“There are financial problems I need to take care of,” Damien says.

“You can handle everything in a few hours,” Charles adds. “But you need to be on-site.”

“Fine,” Damien concedes. He crosses to the window and looks over the city spread out beyond the glass. “I’ll leave Friday night.”

“That’s the tennis center dedication,” Charles says. “Damien, you should go.”

“But I’m not going. I’ve already said why. That’s final.”

I look between the two men. It’s a standoff, and my money is on Damien.

Soon enough, I’m proven right.

“Fine,” Charles says. “You’ll leave Friday, then. If you’re out of the country, that’s another excuse we can throw to the press.”

“I don’t give a damn what you say to the press,” Damien says, his voice sharp with irritation. “There and back again, Charles. And if you can’t get me in and out quickly on commercial flights, then tell Grayson we’re taking the Lear.”