Chapter Eighteen
The following day, after a restless night's sleep, Chey showered and changed into clothes geared for cold weather. Drawing on a coat that landed a few inches past her knees, she gathered her camera, departed the castle and headed outdoors. Ankle deep snow didn't inhibit her trek into the bailey, where she paused several times to take pictures of the castle. It was stunning with a dusting of white on the turrets and spires.
From this vantage, a surreal quality surrounded the entirety of the Ahtissari family seat. The daunting structure sprawled over several acres of land, protected by gates and guards, the Royal flag flying high from a tall mast. There was so much history, so much prestige.
If she was truthful, Chey didn't feel qualified to even consider dating a Royal heir. She was a small town girl, from a small family, with no worldly experience behind her. The Ambassadors, Liaisons, Princes and other Royalty of the world would likely eat her alive.
There were no guarantees that she and Sander would even make it beyond the courting stage. The question became whether she thought it was worth the risk to try. Snapping another picture, she let the camera hang around her neck and gave her situation the grave consideration it deserved. She had to make a decision soon.
In her quest to find new angles to capture the castle, she made her way through the bailey, into a covered corridor and out into the front courtyard where the cars parked to drop off Royals and guests alike. Just before she could step out of the shadows, a flurry of movement from the doors drew her attention. Pausing near the wall, she watched as a security detail emerged and fanned out near a sleek black car parked before the stairs.
A moment later, Sander strode out, dapper in a suit of black. The shirt beneath was crisp and white, his tie a pale blue that probably accentuated his eyes to perfection. Wearing shades to cut the glare of the sun, he had his golden hair tied back at his nape.
Her heart flipped over at the masculine authority he projected, at how her initial instinct was to drop everything and run to him.
Bringing up the camera, she snapped several shots of him on his way to the car and getting inside. It was almost inconceivable to her that this was the same man who had taunted and goaded her on the canoe trip. The one who had expertly cooked her fajitas and tackled her to the ground at the first sound of gunfire. He wore many hats, could step into any guise and pull it off effortlessly.
Outdoorsman, canoe expert, chef, businessman, heir to the throne. Fighter. Lover.
After the car pulled away, Chey spent the next hour photographing the castle from the courtyard and the flag that flew high overhead. Engaging in something she loved so much helped her sort through the problems with Sander.
Finally, with enough pictures to suit, she made her way inside. Taking the stairs to the second level, she headed to her bedroom and closed herself behind a locked door. Removing the camera from around her neck, she set it on the dresser and popped the latch to pull the little image card out.
It was then that the thing that had been niggling at her bloomed into a distinct thought that made her stifle a gasp with her fingers.
Setting the card down, she hastily pulled her cell phone from her pocket and shot off a quick text to Sander. She hoped he didn't have his turned off for whatever errand he'd left on.
“Put the phone down, Chey.”
Closing her eyes, Chey exhaled a quiet breath of frustration. And fear. Turning around, she faced Elise.
The maid had a gun with a long silencer pointed at her head.
“I should have realized last night that no one would have told you about the south tower,” Chey said. That's what had been bothering her. Elise had known details no one would have given her. Why hadn't she thought about it sooner?
You've been distracted with everything else. It wasn't any consolation, her distraction with Sander and his offer.
“I wondered when you were going to put the pieces together,” Elise said. She wore the usual gray athletic wear with white stripes down the sides.
“I just don't understand why, Elise. Why?” Chey hadn't put the phone down yet. She held it cradled in her laced fingers.
The muzzle of the gun trembled. Elise stared at her down the barrel, dark eyes gleaming and intent. “You should have taken the early warnings we gave you and left after the shooting. Come to the table and drink from the water.”
Chey wasn't so shocked to hear that those shots in the early morning by the lake had been a warning. An attempt to scare her off before she really got in deep with her job. She glanced at the table and the bottle of innocuous looking water. Something insidious must be inside. Poison? An undetectable substance that would stop her breathing or her heart? She'd heard of such things.
Perhaps if she screamed, a guard would get here not long after Elise pulled the trigger. Chey might have a chance to recover from a bullet wound as long as it wasn't to the head or a major organ.
As if reading her thoughts, Elise shook her head. “Do not think it. I am an excellent shot and you will not have a chance to summon a guard before I kill you. Now come over here.”
In Chey's hands, the phone chimed a text alert.
Elise narrowed her eyes. “Put the phone down. Now.”
Chey couldn't text Sander back without risking her life. She tossed the phone onto the bed.
“You still didn't tell me why. Or who. Who put you up to this, Elise?” Chey stalled approaching the table. She wasn't drinking whatever was in the bottle. Certain death lurked there. At least she had a slim chance of surviving a bullet wound.
“You ask many questions. Move.” Elise gestured with the gun.
“I deserve to know. I'm carrying it to my grave anyway. What does it matter?” Annoyance flared to temporarily smother the fear. She wanted to know whether it was Natalia or Viia that ordered the attacks. It had to be one or the other. Elise, as far as Chey could discern, had no reason to hurt her.
“Viia sends her regards. You should not have meddled.” Elise gestured again, this time more impatiently, toward the water.
Chey had expected Viia or Natalia but hearing a name put to the madness still shocked her. Viia. The woman probably paid the staff for inside information. It wouldn't have been difficult for her to find out about the meetings with Mattias. There were eyes everywhere, as the attacker the night in her room had suggested.
Taking a few steps closer to the table, Chey glanced across the surface for a weapon. A basket of fruit sat in the middle, useless.
“You don't want to take the fall for this, Elise. If you shoot me, then you'll be prosecuted for murder.”
“I think not. It will be covered up like all the other dark secrets of the Ahtissari's.”
“What dark secrets?” Chey frowned. Did Viia have enough pull to create that kind of cover up?
“On the count of three, Miss Sinclair, I am going to pull the trigger whether you have taken the water or not,” Elise said. “One--”
“Okay, okay.” Chey flashed her palms and closed the final few steps to the table. Picking up the bottle, she twisted off the cap. Elise stopped counting. Chey bought herself another second in the guise of lifting the water. At the last second, she gripped the base and shook water out of the bottle at Elise. Right at her face. A hard splash that landed exactly where Chey intended.
Startled, Elise jerked. The gun wavered.
It was now or never. Chey lunged for Elise's wrist, swinging her arm wide. A bullet thwipped from the silencer, penetrating the ceiling.
Elise clenched her teeth and shot her other hand out for Chey's throat.
Struggling to keep the gun trained away, Chey was about to shout for help when Elise clamped her jugular and squeezed. All that came out was a low garble of noise that wouldn't gain the attention of anyone.
The door to the bedroom burst open as the women tilted precariously, wrestling for control of the gun. Chey saw motion in periphery and the next thing she knew, blood bloomed bright in the center of Elise's forehead. The maid slumped to the ground.
Chey whipped a look to the door, fear lodged thick in her throat, sure that whoever had just entered meant to take them both out.
Allar stood there, gun still drawn, frowning first at the dead maid, then at Chey. “Are you all right, Miss Sinclair?” he asked, lowering the weapon.
“Oh thank God. Yes, yes, I'm all right.” Shaking, Chey backed away from the body on the floor while Allar, followed by Hendrik, rushed inside. They went straight to Elise and knelt down to feel for a pulse.
Allar pulled his fingers away from Elise's throat. “She's dead.”
. . .
Interrogation, round two, went much as Chey expected. Allar led the inquiry, with Mattias present along with Urmas and several other prominent members of security.
Sander, to her dismay, had not yet arrived back from his trip.
She recited the events exactly as they happened, leaving out no detail. Each question put to her she answered with precision and patience, though her mind was a hundred miles away.
What dark secrets had Elise meant? Things from the past? Murders, like Andra? Just how far would an elite family go to keep those kinds of secrets?
All the way.
She had no doubt that Elise's death would be explained away as something other than what it had been. The Royals and their advisers wouldn't want it getting out that staff members were following through with threats and murder for others.
And something else bothered Chey. Something no one touched on during the investigation. Would Elise have risked her life for someone not yet a part of the Royal family? Viia wasn't even Mattias's fiance. Yet that had been the name on Elise's lips, not Natalia. It would have made little sense for Elise to lie when she thought Chey was as good as dead.
The deceased told no tales.
Then again, perhaps the money had been too good for Elise and the attacker in the tower to pass up. He'd been a stablehand, Allar informed her, somehow coerced into doing murderous deeds for someone else. Money was excellent motivation.
Departing the office, tired in ways she hadn't been since her parents death, Chey headed for the stairs to the second floor. By now, Elise's body should be removed from her room. It gave her the creeps, just a little, to think of sleeping there after Elise's death.
“Chey.”
She paused in the upper hallway at the sound of Sander's voice. Turning, she saw him striding toward her in the same clothes he'd had on a few short hours ago. He even still had his sunglasses on.
“Hi.” She murmured a greeting, arms crossed over her chest.
Sander didn't hesitate. He enfolded her into a bear hug, pulling her against him. “Are you all right?”
She unwound her arms and slid them around his middle. He smelled divine. A combination of masculine cologne and the scent that was uniquely his.
“Yeah. I should have known when Elise mentioned the tower that you or the other security wouldn't have told her about it.”
“I knew the moment you asked me in the text. We were in Kalev by then and I had to see my meeting through.”
“Allar got there quickly. It's a good thing. I'm not sure I could have overpowered her.”
Sander leaned away and cupped her face in his warm hands after pushing up his sunglasses. “I'm sorry you were ever subjected to that kind of danger. Viia will be arrested and sentenced.”
“I guess she really felt threatened. It's a shame. If she only knew.” Chey met and held Sander's eyes. Her fingers stroked over the back of the fine suit, feeling the lay of muscle beneath. He felt strong and competent under her palms.
“She has been a social climber from day one. I never expected her capable of this, however.” Sander stroked the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks.
“I have to say—even with all the dirty looks and warning glances, I didn't expect it, either.” Chey paused, then asked, “Is it always like this? I mean with the danger?”
Sander pressed his lips together and looked past her down the hall. Toward some distant, irrelevant point. Then met her eyes again. “I will not lie. It can be. We receive threats weekly. Most are disgruntled musings from a disturbed mind, but others...others are real and tangible. Rarely do we have this sort of situation, though.”
“But you do have them.”
“Yes.”
Chey dropped her gaze to the knot of his tie. “She spoke of dark secrets. Was she being melodramatic, or is there more to it?”
When he hissed in annoyance, Chey glanced up. Sander wore a complicated expression, as if being forced to chose between lying and telling half truths. Chey didn't deceive herself into thinking she would be trusted with anything more.
“I'm not at liberty to disclose those kinds of things at this time. I'm sorry,” he said.
“I understand.” And she did. Chey had not been a part of his life nearly long enough to earn the right to whatever secrets they were hiding.
“I've had your things moved to another room. I'll show you there.” He looked like he might kiss her, then shifted out of the tilt and dropped his hands.
“You read my mind. I wasn't looking forward to going back to the other one.” Chey slid her hands off him as well and followed Sander down the hall.
“I don't think many people would be comfortable. If this new room does not please you, we'll find one that does.” He went all the way to the end of the hall to a pair of double doors on the left. One of these he opened with a key and entered, holding it for her to follow.
It wasn't just a suite, like her other had been, but an entire apartment. A separate living room, kitchenette and two bedrooms, along with an expansive bath, took up the whole corner of this floor. Windows overlooked the woods to the east and multi-paned doors led onto a broad balcony already furnished with a table, four chairs and an umbrella. The overhang prevented snow from reaching half the balcony; the rest was covered in several inches of the white stuff.
Chey investigated it all. The décor was as stunning as every other room in the castle, done in tones of cream, sage green and faded purple. Gold trim accentuated the walls, the ceiling and the furniture.
“This more than suits. Thank you for thinking of it,” she finally said, meeting up with Sander at a dining table near the windows. She ran her hands over the intricate carving around the edges.
“It will remain your room should you decide to stay on.”
Chey glanced at his eyes. He stood resolute behind a chair, hands resting over the back. She couldn't read his expression any better than earlier. The comment in itself was a reminder, though, one she did not miss.
“I'll keep that in mind.”
He inclined his head. Reaching up, he slid the sunglasses off, folded the arms, and slid them into the front pocket of his coat. “How about I bring you dinner tonight? I'll make it myself. Say, six?”
Chey almost asked him if they could go to the cabin, but refrained. She needed to stay here and learn to accept things the way they were—or not.
“That sounds fine. Six it is.”
He smiled and stepped away from the chair. “I have a few things to do before then. I'll see you at dinner.”
“I'll see you then, Sander.” He would always be Sander instead of Dare.
Chey followed him to the door, said a last goodbye, and closed it behind him. She engaged both dead bolts.
By the time they were finished with dinner, she intended to give him an answer.