Chapter Seven
Magnus paced the library of the Duke of North Cumberland, who had generously offered up his sprawling private estate the night before. The move meant an impromptu holiday for his family, but the duke understood that some relationships were worth such inconvenience.
And there wasn’t a part of this that wasn’t inconvenient.
The appearance of Dr. Stein, his family’s trusted physician, halted Magnus midstep. The doctor was short, bald, and had been old as long as Magnus could remember, but he was also brilliant and discreet. “Is he alive?”
“Yes, and now simply sleeping. But you won’t like what I learned.”
Magnus waved the doctor in. “I didn’t expect to.”
“This isn’t a case of drug addiction, not in the classic sense. Your friend either injected himself or paid someone to inject him with a powerful anesthetic drug. He wasn’t looking for a high. He was looking to check out—maybe for a night, maybe forever. I’ve seen similar cases in the news, but sadly only after it ends tragically. I don’t know Eric Westerly beyond having seen him in movies, so I can’t speak to his motivation for sedating himself, but I’d say it’s at least partially to combat insomnia. My guess is he has worked his way through less extreme substances without success. If he continues to self-medicate and mixes this anesthesia with anything else, he won’t be your problem for long.”
Magnus ran his hand through his hair as he digested the news. “Is it addictive? Would there be withdrawal issues?”
Dr. Stein rubbed his chin in thought. “That will depend on the frequency of his use. Most of the data on addiction to this drug comes from studies about, surprisingly enough, people in the medical field who have access to it. It has a short half life and rapid metabolic clearance, so it often doesn’t show up in the bloodstream later.”
“So, it’s a matter of stopping him from taking more?”
The doctor shook his head slowly. “This is a deeply troubled man, Magnus. He needs to be admitted to a rehab center where he can address whatever he’s willing to risk his life to escape from. People don’t choose this drug—they resort to it out of desperation.”
So much for this being easy. “I don’t understand. He’s at the top of his career. He has enough money to buy himself out of any situation. Why the hell would a man like that be desperate?”
“How long have I known you, Magnus?”
“You delivered me.”
“Then may I be frank?”
“Please.”
“You were born with the heart of a warrior. You are at your best when there is a battle to be waged, but life is not always about the victory. I heard about your behavior at the children’s hospital. You scared the children more than the clowns did.”
Magnus pocketed his hands and frowned. There were few, if any, people he would accept speaking to him the way this man was. “Going there at all was my father’s idea. He was unable to go himself and believed it would be good for my public image.”
“Magnus, your father does not visit the sick for his public image. He goes because he understands they are more than his responsibility—they are his people. He loves them, and that is why they love him. You fight for Vandorra, but do you do it because you think it is the role you were born to? That’s not enough, my son. A king, one worth still having in this world, would lay down his life for his people because they have his heart as well as his sword.”
Suddenly impatient, Magnus demanded, “What does this have to do with Westerly?”
The doctor held his gaze for a moment before speaking. “You will not be able to help him if you don’t first try to understand him. I believe people come into our lives for a reason. Perhaps you need Eric as much as he needs you.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
Dr. Stein grimaced. “Your pride, my son, will stop you from becoming the king Vandorra needs. Don’t think that simply taking Eric to Finn will change anything for either of them. Consider Finn the voice of your people. They’re asking if you will open your heart to them. What will your answer be?”
I don’t know if I can be the king my father was.
Magnus thought about the small Vandorran town where his mother had chosen to raise him. It had been important to her that Magnus had bonds with their people, and he did. Perhaps he did not show his love for his people openly, but it was there. “Send Phillip in. I have a task for him.”
The doctor nodded and left the room. A moment later, Phillip, the head of Vandorra’s royal guard, entered. “You sent for me?”
“I did,” Magnus said. “I want you to dig deeper about Eric Westerly and his family in the United States. If one of them is so much as battling with a cavity, I want to know it. I need you to keep Westerly here until I decide what to do with him and watch him closely. I also want a full background check done on Rachelle Westerly. Everything.”
“She’s the buzz of London this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone reversed a video clip, so it appears that you turned away from her publicly. They shared it on social media with some unflattering text. I don’t imagine she’s very happy about it.”
Fucking fantastic. His hands clenched at his sides. “Who? Who’s responsible for it?”
“I tracked the initial video to a Twitter account belonging to a friend of Princess Isabella. Perhaps this was her way of humiliating the Westerly woman before she became competition? It’s no secret the princess would like to be the next queen of Vandorra.”
“Can the video be pulled down?”
“I’m afraid it has gone viral. There is already discussion of it on a variety of social pages. The damage is done.” He called up the video and showed it to Magnus.
“Get me Rachelle Westerly’s phone number.”
“It’s already added to the contacts on your phone.”
Competence was a welcome sight in the middle of what was turning out to be a shitfest. “Thank you, Phillip. That’s all for now.”
“Of course,” Phillip answered, then left.
Magnus pulled up Rachelle’s contact information on his phone. He’d never been one to soften the truth, but this was a novel situation, and Dr. Stein’s words still rang in his ears. Tempting as it was to tell Finn his movie-star hero was not worth his adoration, and Rachelle that she was right to be worried about her brother, neither one of them had done a thing to deserve the pain that news would bring them.
Magnus had forced foreign leaders to change the terms of their treaties with his father without ever asking for advice on the matter. He was used to quickly determining what needed to be done in a situation and then doing it. Wins required decisive actions.
I won’t be able to help Westerly until I understand him. What the fuck am I supposed to understand about a man who has decided his life has no value?
Pacing the office again, Magnus asked himself a question he hadn’t in a long time: What would my father do?
A short time later, armed with information about the Westerly family and a plan, Magnus called Rachelle. She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“It’s Magnus.”
“Calling to gloat? You’ll be disappointed to hear that I’m having lunch at a lovely, very public outdoor café. The sun is shining. The food is delicious. I couldn’t be in a better mood.”
A lie, but there was no need to call her out for it. If she was indeed sitting in a café at that moment, he was again impressed with her. That kind of grit was the way he would advise anyone to deal with a public scandal. “I have determined the source of the video clip. Would you like her apology to be private or public?”
Her gasp was audible. “It wasn’t you?”
“Little Rachelle, why would I want to see you hurt?”
“I thought—you said . . .”
“It was not me, but I assure you the person who was involved will regret the folly.”
“No. Please don’t. I’m not the vengeful type. But I am confused. Why would anyone want to hurt me? I’m no one.”
He could have argued that she was far from being a no one, but that was a conversation for another time. “Jealousy trumps decency in some. I’m afraid it was the attention I showed you that brought this on you.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s not actually as bad as I thought. The more attention the clip gets, the more people comment that obviously it was reversed. In fact, my phone has been ringing all day with people lending their support. I’ve never received so many invitations from complete strangers. Some of them are prominent enough that Eric must have felt bad about leaving last night and made a few calls. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. Unless you—”
“I did not.”
She was quiet, then said, “He never came home last night.”
“Rachelle—”
“Yes?”
“What do you know about your brother’s private life?”
“Why do you ask? Have you seen him? Do you know where he is?”
Rather than lying, he said, “I’m still gathering information. However, if I could locate your brother, what would you want from him?”
“That’s a strange question. Is it because you think I’d somehow stand in the way of your promise to that little boy?”
“Yes,” he said, because denying that would have required an assessment of why he really was asking, and he wasn’t ready to do that.
“We aren’t on opposites sides, Magnus. I love that there’s a little boy out there whose life may be changed simply by meeting my brother. But what do I want?” She paused, and let out an audible breath. “Eric moved to London to build a life away from us. I don’t know why, but I sense he regrets that. I used to think he was naturally aloof, but lately I’ve wondered if he feels . . . abandoned. I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to know all of that, but I’m worried about him. He shouldn’t be alone. I need him to know we’re here for him if he needs us. That’s all I want to say.”
Magnus sat on the arm of the office couch. He was driven by facts and duty. She operated on emotion and instinct. She felt that her brother’s welfare was her responsibility. That motivation he understood.
“I know where he is,” Magnus said.
“You do?” Her voice rose several octaves. “Where?”
“I’ll send a car for you. Be ready in an hour.”
“Ready? Like dressed? I’m already dressed.”
“I mean packed. You and your brother will accompany me back to Vandorra this evening.”
“You’ve spoken to Eric? He’s agreed to go?”
“A car will retrieve you from his home in an hour.” Magnus hung up and called for Phillip.
“Yes?” Phillip inquired from the door.
“Get Westerly up, showered, and dressed. Bring him to me when he’s presentable. His sister will be here in less than two hours. Have a helicopter ready to take us to the airfield. We return to Vandorra tonight.”
“And if Westerly resists?”
“Do your best not to hurt him, but use whatever force is necessary. None of my plan works if he’s dead.”
Rachelle clutched her phone on her lap in the backseat of a Rolls-Royce as it sped beyond the city limits of London. Her stomach was churning nervously, even though she kept assuring herself she’d made the right choice.
She’d almost called home and told her family where she and Eric were headed, but she wanted to tread softer this time. She’d learned that Eric was obsessive when it came to his privacy. Perhaps he didn’t want there to be a chance the press would know where he was going. Of course she wished he’d been the one to tell her he’d decided to do the appearance, but what mattered was that he wanted her to go on this trip with him. It was an opportunity she wasn’t about to pass up—not for all the stomach butterflies in the world.
A little voice in her head kept whispering that something wasn’t right. Perhaps it was the additional man in the front seat. Two drivers?
One to drive and one to make sure I don’t run? She laughed nervously, then squashed the thought.
I’m going on a trip with my brother. There’s nothing scary about this. The additional man is probably in case I had a lot of luggage.
She remembered Magnus’s warning that he would use her if he had to. She shook her head. I have definitely watched too many movies. Instead of wondering what they’d do if I said no to going, I should be glad they asked me to.
She was excited to see Magnus again. Oh, she’d deny it to him, but there was no use lying to herself. It was impossible not to wonder if what she’d felt the night before would still be there.
Would his cocky smile send her heart racing?
Would every innocent touch of his hand inspire instant, filthy fantasies of where she wanted his hands to go?
Was it wrong to want to feel sexy and confident again even if she knew it couldn’t lead to anything? I’ll be back in my old life soon enough—I just want one more taste of how it feels to want someone that much.
And hopefully when I go home, I can find a sweet, humble, normal man who makes me feel the same way.
The crowded city streets gave way to winding, tree-lined roads. “How far is it?” she asked the driver.
“Five minutes more, ma’am,” the man said.
“Does Prince Magnus own a home there?”
“I believe the home he’s staying at belongs to a duke.”
“I’m surprised the prince didn’t choose to stay in the city. This doesn’t seem like a convenient location.” It feels more like where’d you stay if you wanted to do something out of the public eye.
The car pulled up to an intricate iron gate that swung open, then closed behind them. The sprawling English estate was impressive, although not the size of Eric’s. Men in suits occupied stations around the lawn, and a helicopter waited nearby.
They parked at the top of the circular driveway in front of the prominent entryway. As soon as the driver stepped out, the second man turned in his seat and handed Rachelle a black card with nothing more than a phone number printed in white. “You are never alone. If you need something, anything, call that number, but show it to no one.”
The side door opened before she had time to ask whose number it was. She tucked it inside her phone case and took her cue from the man who had handed it to her and pretended they had not exchanged anything.
Holy crap, what was that?
“Please follow me,” her driver said. “Prince Magnus is in a meeting, but he will meet you in the library shortly.”
“Before that, I’d like to see my brother. Where is he?”
“This way, please.”
Rachelle followed the driver into the house as the other man brought her one suitcase to the helicopter. She hadn’t brought much. She couldn’t imagine the trip would be for more than a couple of days.
Once inside, Rachelle hesitated when she didn’t see her brother in the library. She sent him a text telling him that she was there.
No response.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose. “I want to speak to my brother.”
The man nodded. “It should not be long. Is there anything we could offer while you wait? Are you hungry? Thirsty? There is a washroom down the hall if you would like to freshen up.”
Two men in dark suits stationed themselves on either side of the door. Rachelle had never considered herself a paranoid person, but the sight gave her the chills. “I would like to use the washroom, thank you.”
If only to prove to myself that I’m suffering from an overactive imagination.
She left the library and made her way down the hallway in the direction the driver had pointed. She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting someone to be right behind her, but no one was. She laughed nervously.
Nicolette is right, I need to get out more. I’ve lived a too-sheltered life.
The security isn’t for me. Magnus is a prince. Of course he has bodyguards. I’m reading meaning into things that mean nothing.
Rachelle relieved herself, washed her hands, then looked in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked more excited than she wanted to. Last night went badly because I let it be about me and what I wanted. Eric needs me. I can’t let Mr. You Wish I’d Been Your First and Every Fuck Since distract me from why I came.
She gave herself a stern look, then took a deep breath and opened the door. When she realized the security duo from the library was now standing outside the washroom, she nearly closed the door again. But since she wasn’t about to leave before she saw Eric, she didn’t have many options. She raised her chin and walked past them to the library.
Once inside, she checked her phone again for a message from Eric. Nothing.
On impulse, she texted Magnus. I want to see my brother now. If you don’t bring him to me immediately, I will call the police.
A moment later one of the guards stepped into the library with three bottles of water. “Prince Magnus will be here in a moment,” he said, juggling the bottles from hand to hand as he seemed to search for something in his pockets. He stepped closer. “He sent me a message. I’ll read it to you.” He held the water out. “Could you hold these for a moment?”
Confused, she accepted the bottles he thrust at her and didn’t realize until too late that he used the exchange as an opportunity to relieve her of her phone. “Please forgive me, Miss Westerly, but I was instructed to take this.”
He left as quickly as he’d arrived, leaving her standing there, mouth open, with three bottles of water. She moved to follow him, but the two men at the doorway stepped inward to form a barricade with their bodies.
Holy shit, is this a kidnapping?
How do I even know Eric is here?
Oh my God, the only one I told where I was going was Reggie.
My survival might depend on Lurch.