Page 42 of Handle Me

“Fine.” It’s not like I cared where I crashed, and I’d rather not spend London hotel prices to sit around and wait to be summoned.

“Anders.” He paused, his expression becoming unreadable. “Thank you for coming.”

“Um, you’re welcome?” I wasn’t sure if he actually meant it. It was clear that he didn’t like me, and the feeling was entirely mutual. But before I could figure it out, he waved to a passing security guard.

“Have you met Brex?” he asked me.

“In passing.”

“He’s in charge of my London team at the moment. He’ll get you settled into Kensington and make sure everyone knows who you are.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said dryly.

“It’s better if the staff is prepped,” Alexander said, ignoring me. “Brex will also oversee your security from here on out.”

Something about the way he said ‘on out’ settled sourly in my stomach. Before I could press for details—and make sure he meant while I was in London—a doctor appeared and called to him.

“Excuse me,” he said, rushing away as Brex finally reached us. “Make sure he has what he needs.”

“You got it, poor boy,” Brex called.

“Poor boy?” I repeated.

“I’ll tell you later.” Brex smiled as we reintroduced ourselves. The tall black man had been with Clara at various points while she’d hosted the annual charity games thrown by the royal family. I’d been too preoccupied then to get to know him. Now, he seemed just as preoccupied as I had been. His brown eyes swept the hall constantly. “I can have a car take you to Kensington.”

I glanced back toward the double doors where Lola was waiting with her family to see her sister. “I’ll wait, if you don’t mind.”

“Suit yourself.” Brex was already back to guard duty. I wasn’t sure he ever really relaxed.

I found my way back to the lounge. As soon as I was through the doors, Madeline accosted me.

“Did you see her? How does she look? How’s the baby?”

“I didn’t see her,” I said flatly.

“What? Why did he ask you to go back there?”

“He needed help with a lid. It was stuck.”

Madeline’s nostrils flared at the joke, and she stuck a long, manicured finger into my chest. “If you—”

“Come on,” Lola interrupted her, taking her mother by the arm. “Why don’t we go find something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” she pouted.

“I am,” Lola said, “so come with me.”

Madeline glanced between us suspiciously. “I thought you two were at dinner. It’s not even breakfast time yet.”

“We got the call before we finished eating,” I said, stealing a look at Lola. “Plus, it was one of those fancy places where they serve you pea shoots and call it a salad.”

I dared her to contradict me again. But my excuse had worked.

“Then maybe you two should go get a bite.” Madeline sniffed dramatically. “I should be here in case Clara needs me.”

“Sure, you do that.” Lola sounded exhausted, and we’d only been here for an hour. “I need to consult with Anders anyway.”

“Why?” Madeline demanded. “Is something going on between you two?”