The Price of Winning: London Calling Book Four (10 page)

***

Sebastian found Angeline in her office, which was situated on the third floor of the east wing. The door was ajar. It was his house, but still he knocked, tapping lightly on the doorjamb.

“Come in, Bas.” She kept her head down, intent on the paperwork in front of her.

It was a trick she played. Angeline always knew who was around her before they had a chance to speak or be seen. She never failed at it, and Sebastian had yet to figure out how she did it.

He padded across the wood floors to one of the wingback chairs flanking a bay window. He sat, crossing his ankle over his knee, and waited.
 

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Interesting.”

Sebastian knew better than to interrupt when she was deep into something, whether it was a book, spreadsheet, or project. He doubted Angeline even knew she was thinking out loud. Besides, he was still smarting from Madeleine’s rejection.
 

No sooner had the idea of offering dinner formed in his brain than he’d been uttering the words. When she’d hesitated, visibly uncomfortable, he’d felt like a teenager, gauche and awkward.

Hell, he’d had more finesse back then.
 

Sebastian shifted, uncrossing his leg. A soft breeze fluttered the gauze curtains, wafting the sweet fragrance of wisteria into the room. He frowned.

Who was he kidding? He hadn’t
offered dinner.
He’d asked her out on a
date
. As if they were ordinary people who’d met at work or something.

Sebastian dated, of course. When a social event commanded his presence, he called his assistant, mentioned a name, and the arrangements were handled. Occasionally, the same woman partnered him on multiple occasions.

But never if she had expectations of permanence.

He re-crossed his leg then pushed aside the curtain to look out the window. He didn’t commit. Not because he led some sort of swinging bachelor lifestyle or favored variety over stability. No, he didn’t make promises because he knew he couldn’t keep them.

The one time he’d tried, he’d failed. Utterly and tragically.

He let the curtain drop. Angeline was sitting in the chair opposite and had set a silver tray containing two ice-filled tumblers and a pitcher of tea on the table between them.
 

He hadn’t even noticed.

“How’s the view?” she asked.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

“You were staring out that window like a hurricane was headed our way. Can you even tell me what it’s like outside?” She leaned forward and poured the iced tea into both glasses. With a small smile she held his glass out to him.

Angeline still loved iced tea, a holdover from her life in the southern states of America. Sebastian took a sip, letting the icy flavors of black tea and orange explode over his tongue.
 

He was a convert.

“No,” he admitted. He studied his glass, watching the ice cubes chase each other. He shrugged. “I’m distracted.”

“Shall I guess by what?” Her eyebrows were deliberately raised. “Or whom?”

Sebastian set down his glass. “How is she doing? Really?”

Angeline didn’t have to ask to whom he was referring. She steepled her fingers together. “Okay. Better.” A small crease appeared on her forehead. “But to be honest, I’m worried.”

“Why?”

“Because she doesn’t leave. She finds excuses for me to run any errands, take care of the shopping.” She shook her head. “She’s creative, I’ll give her that. But the fact remains—Madeleine never leaves the estate.”

Sebastian cocked his head, thinking. “Maybe that’s what she needs. Peace and solitude.”

Angeline pushed her hair back behind her shoulders. “Maybe.” She started to reach for her glass then subsided. “Maybe not.”

“She’ll venture out when she’s ready, Angeline. Give her time.”

“Like she did in Chicago? You said she was virtually a recluse. Maybe she’s just switched her location.”

Sebastian rolled his neck, rubbing at his nape to loosen some of the knots. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“No.”
 

He tugged at his bottom lip, thinking. “I think it’s too early. You didn’t see her in Chicago, after the accident, like I did.”

“No,” she repeated. Angeline paused then leaned forward. “I want what’s best for her too. I’ve become quite fond of your Madeleine. But maybe Dom is right. Maybe she needs to go back to work, do something with her mind besides remember.”

Personally, he had doubts Martin was right about much of anything, especially when it came to women. Hadn’t he put Natalie through hell?
 

He rubbed his temple where a headache was brewing. “I don’t like it.”

Angeline smiled, serene. “Then perhaps we should leave the decision to Madeleine.” The smile stayed in place, but her tone firmed. “As it should be.”

The stiffness in Sebastian’s neck now extended to his jaw. Normally, Jersey was a sanctuary for him, a retreat from the pressures of London. Not this time. The two women ensconced in his home obviously didn’t give a fig about his stress levels.

He drained his tea in preparation to leave. But Angeline had other ideas. As he moved to set the glass back on the tray, she picked up the pitcher of tea, holding it aloft.

“Let me refill you.” She poured before he could voice a disagreement.
 

He almost laughed out loud. She was so placid and unconcerned, he almost didn’t care that he was being ruthlessly bullied. He grinned in spite of himself. Such was Angeline’s way with people and, frankly, she was perfect at it. The devil himself would do her bidding if she put her mind to it.

“Speaking of Dominic.”

Here it comes, Sebastian thought. She’d carefully herded him to this point.

“He seems to think you’re up to something.” She raised one eyebrow. “Now, I know you two haven’t caught on yet, and Dominic tends to distrust people until he really knows them.”

Sebastian snorted. He wondered if she realized how much of a mother she was being.

“But the thing is…” She hesitated, delicately tracing one finger through the condensation on the jug of tea. “I sense you’re up to something too.” She raised her eyes to shoot him a level look.

And just like that, she could fell a man. Sebastian shifted, feeling a lot like a schoolboy who’d been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar.
 

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re planning with the Russians?”

Damn her. “What do you mean?” He stalled for time.

“I know you’re not bringing them to Jersey. Not with Madeleine here. So I’m confident you’ve developed another plan without talking to anyone about it. I’m equally confident it involves Club Hobart, as you originally considered.” She settled back in her chair with exaggerated nonchalance.

Sebastian took a deep breath then stood up. He’d like to be able to just walk out, but admiration and respect for Angeline wouldn’t allow it. He paced across the room, stopping to touch the petals of a bouquet of calla lilies on her desk.
 

“Don’t worry, Madeleine hasn’t been in here. Those are the last of the ones the gardener dug up from the gardens.”
 

He nodded. She’d had all the lilies removed from the grounds as requested. Just as she did most things he asked.
 

He owed her an answer.

“You’re right, of course.” He ambled back to the bay window and lowered himself into his chair. “But hear me out.” He paused, noting the way she raised her chin. “I’ll be personally hosting a private event in the penthouse rooms of the club. I’ve curated a selective list of our targets, inviting some but not all of them. Everyone will be Russian. There will be legitimate businessmen as well as celebrities mixed in.”

Angeline pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. Sebastian took that as a sign to continue.

“I haven’t told them yet, but I’ve arranged for a surprise vacation package for Martin and Natalie. While I’m entertaining the Russians, they’ll be happily ensconced in the Austrian Alps, enjoying some of the best spa services in Europe.” He’d purchased one ticket for Madeleine, which had been a spectacular failure. Adding another was no problem, and at least they’d be used. “As I said, I’ll handle all of this myself. No one will be in danger.”
 

“Except you, Sebastian.” Her voice was quiet, her face serious.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged off her concern. “I’ve got this. You have to trust me.”

“It isn’t a question of trust. It’s a question of concern. You’re taking more risks.” She hesitated. “I’m worried you’re letting this take over your entire life.”

“You’re one to talk, Angeline.” His words were too hard, so he softened them by clasping her hand. “I’m fine. I’m passionate about the work we do. You know that.”

She gave his hand a light squeeze. “I know. So am I.” She paused, thoughtful. “But if you’re not careful, passion becomes obsession. And obsession can turn the best of men bad.”

Sebastian swallowed hard around the sudden tightness in his throat. He wanted to jump up, deny her implications that he was out of control. Instead, he rose and walked to the door.
 

He looked back at her for one long moment. Her face only reflected tolerance and consideration. Satisfied, he said, “I’ll be careful.”
 

He left. This time, Angeline made no move to stop him.

***

Madeleine had discovered the gymnasium during her first week at Sebastian’s estate on Jersey. Located on the ground level with overhead skylights, it was a gorgeous if enormous space. At least one-half of the room was covered in wrestling mats. Punching bags and what appeared to be fighting pads lined one wall. Training equipment and weights took up another chunk. To her delight, an entire corner was fitted out with satiny hardwood flooring, mirrors, and a barre.

Angeline told her Sebastian had it installed after seeing Madeleine’s exercise room in her penthouse in Chicago.

Every morning it had become her habit to visit the gym to work through various cardio and ballet training exercises. She was the only one to use the gym, as Angeline preferred swimming and being outdoors.
 

Until today.
 

As Madeleine opened the door, she was greeted by the sound of punches, well-aimed kicks, and the accompanying grunts of the men delivering them. She stood just inside the entrance, reluctantly fascinated by the violence unfolding in front of her.
 

Both men were bare-chested and wore loose-fitting karate pants. No shoes, either, which was a good thing considering the brute force behind their kicks. Plus, they fought on the large expanse of flooring covered in cushioned mats. It was so fast Madeleine could hardly keep track of who was hitting and kicking as fists and feet flew in a flurry of strikes.
 

Sebastian appeared to have a slight edge on his sparring partner. With a sweep of his leg, he tackled the other man in a savage takedown.
 

He reached down, offering a hand to the other man to help him up. It must be over, Madeleine thought, and released the breath she’d been unaware of holding. She moved farther into the gym, relieved the fight was finished.

Except it wasn’t.

His opponent grabbed Sebastian’s hand while simultaneously twisting his body on the mat. Sebastian unbalanced and fell, quickly grappling the other man into a chokehold. Madeleine’s hand flew to her throat as the other man bunched his legs beneath him and lunged forward, bringing Sebastian over his back and flat out onto the mat before him.
 

She swore she heard something crack.

Sebastian gulped, clearly laboring to breathe. He propped himself up on one arm, still gasping. She started to run forward when the other man, having regained his feet, delivered a stunning chop to Sebastian’s neck followed by two backhanded blows to each side of his face.

Sebastian crumpled back to the floor, his lip split and bleeding. One eye was already swelling shut, the skin purpling with a bruise.

Madeleine screamed, hurling herself between Sebastian and his assailant. Draping her body protectively over Sebastian, she looked over her shoulder at the other man.

At a closer distance, she could see he didn’t look much better. But still.

The match had been over when he took a cheap shot, taking Sebastian down. She glared and pointed her finger at him.

“You are despicable,” she seethed.
 

The other man grinned, dropping a curtsey. “Thank you, miss.”

“Get out!” Balanced as she was, her temper nearly toppled her over. Her hand shot downward to brace herself, encountering a hard, sweaty chest.

Sebastian groaned.
 

“Oh!” She reared back, all her attention now on Sebastian. “I’m so sorry.” She patted at him, feeling helpless. “Oh, your face. Your poor face.” One finger delicately touched the corner of his mouth, blotting some of the blood away.
 

He reached up to tug her finger away, but not before his tongue snaked out to briefly touch it.

She nearly dissolved in a puddle. But behind her there was a sound of a zipper. Her head whipped around to see Sebastian’s fighting partner hoisting his duffel bag over one shoulder.
 

Unbelievable. “Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.
 

He looked lost for words for a second. Finally, “I’m leaving. Like you told me to.”
 

Flustered, Madeleine waved a hand at him, dismissing that idea. “Make yourself useful and go get an icepack.” She knew she sounded like a shrew, but she didn’t want to leave Sebastian.
 

The man dropped his bag, looking at Sebastian in disbelief. Sebastian started to choke out a laugh, and then proceeded to wheeze and gasp while clutching his ribs. He dismissed the other man with a brief nod.
 

“Why did you do that?” she cried. She started to hop to her feet, but Sebastian stopped her by laying one large hand on her knee.

“Stay,” he said.

She sat back down, belatedly smoothing the fluttery fabric of the skirt she wore tied over her tights and leotard. She’d come dressed for ballet practice.