Page 8 of Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire 3)
Every moment with Magnus had been one when she wasn’t the misguided woman who had traveled halfway across the world to stay in the house of a brother who wouldn’t even return her texts.
I traded that feeling for my chance to show Eric how family makes everything better.
God, I really am arrogant.
For all I know, Eric is perfectly happy without us. He couldn’t be more clear about not wanting me in his life. Maybe what I should really do is go home and figure myself out instead of thinking I need to fix other people.
“Would you like the cook to make you anything before you retire?” Reggie asked, appearing from seemingly nowhere.
Rachelle muffled her scream with a hand. “Sorry, I thought I was alone.”
“Never. Mr. Westerly asked me to look after you. I’m always around, even if you don’t see me.”
Who is Reggie to Eric? “I shouldn’t have gone to the premiere, Reggie. I embarrassed him. Could you arrange for a car to take me to the airport tomorrow? I think it’s time for me to go home.”
“Wow, you give up easily.”
“Excuse me?”
Reggie shrugged. “Earlier you went on and on about how much your family matters to you. You get ditched on television by a prince, and you’re running back to your mommy and daddy. I hope my children have more spine than that.”
Rachelle waved her hand in the air in clarification. “I did not get ditched by a prince. I walked away from him. And, hang on, you have children?”
In response, Reggie took out his phone and turned it so she could see a GIF on his social media feed. It was of her and Magnus at her car. It looked as if she’d spoken to him, but he turned away from her. She took the phone and played it again. The caption read: “Be a prince, say no to American trash.”
“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.
“Fuck.”
You can’t break a man who’s already broken.
Chapter Six
Back in the United States.
At nearly eighty-two, Delinda Westerly was forced to accept pain, in some fashion or another, as a constant companion. The clock running down on her life made every moment matter; there was so much she didn’t want to leave undone. It also freed her from worrying what people thought of her—not that she’d ever valued the opinion of many. Born into wealth and tested through tragedy, Delinda knew she’d have some explaining to do at the pearly gates, but if she were given her life to do over, she wouldn’t do much differently.
The door of her solarium flew open, and Hailey Tiverton, her grandson’s fiancée, rushed into the room. “I came as soon as I saw your text. What’s wrong?”
Looking worried, Alessandro Andrade, a man Delinda loved like a son, strode in. His mother, a woman who had been one of Delinda
’s dear friends, would be proud of the patriarch he’d become. “Did you call the doctor? Is he on his way?”
