The Price of Winning: London Calling Book Four (7 page)

No response.

“Since the bombing, the hospital is overcrowded. You’re taking up a room, and other patients need it more than you.”

That brought her head swinging around. It was the first real response he’d seen from her since that first night. He pressed his advantage, refusing to allow her to recede from him again.

“I have nowhere to go.” Her voice was weak. Rusty.

“You do. I want to take you back to England with me.” There. The words he’d battled from saying were out. When the thought first occurred to him, he’d dismissed it. As the hours and days passed since, he’d come to accept the idea. Embraced it as the best course of action.

She stared blankly. He allowed the suggestion to rest in the space between them and hopefully take root in her as it had him.
 

Instead, she turned back to the window. There was no view to speak of, so she stared at the sky and nothing else.

Sebastian wasn’t having it. Reaching over, he pulled her hands apart from each other, noticing with some surprise how tight her grip was. Taking one hand in his, he tugged, but her gaze stayed resolutely fixed on something outside the window.
 

“Madeleine.” Her hand shifted in his, restless. “I just want you to think about it. I have things to take care of in the meantime. While I’d like for you to come with me, the fact is that I’ll need to be leaving soon regardless.” He heard her breath catch and nearly relented. But it was imperative she snapped out of this fog. Steeling himself, he continued. “And you’ll need to be moving on as well. I’d guess they’ll allow you two more days here, at most.”

At that, she turned to him, her eyes wet and full of anguish.

“Stop. Please, I can’t deal with all this.”

“You can, and you must.” He squeezed her hand in reassurance. She was the one holding on to him now. “I have to go.” He rose, gently disentangling himself from her grasp.
 

When he reached the door, he looked back. She sat, still as stone, leaking with sorrow. He could see her trembling but forced himself to be strong.
 

“I’ll be back.”
 

Her strangled sobs followed him as the door quietly shut behind him.

***

Sebastian stood in Madeleine’s bedroom, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Behind him, the large team of movers he’d hired were packing her things into cardboard boxes. Most would make their way to a climate controlled storage unit he’d rented for the purpose.

A few would be shipped to England, where he planned to install her in his estate on Jersey, under the watchful eye of Angeline.

He could think of no one he trusted more to the task.
 

His phone vibrated in his pocket, reminding him he’d left her a voicemail earlier. He could count on one hand how many people had his personal number, Angeline being one.
 

His parents the other two.

He answered while walking into the living area. “Angeline.” Not a question, but his usual greeting style.

“Sebastian.” Subtle amusement tinged her voice. “Where are you?”

He’d kept his travel plans to the U.S. to himself. Sebastian assumed he would have been a private man no matter what. But the events of his childhood had guaranteed it, embedding him with a cautious nature.
 

Some would even say suspicious.

Of course, none of that mattered with Angeline. He thought of her as family, like a second mother to his own. He knew her, believed in her. More importantly, he depended on her.
 

“I’m in Chicago.”

A gasp. “Were you near the attack?”

He wasn’t surprised she knew about the tragedy. The U.S. had become all too known for its frequent episodes of mass violence, but the events still made headlines.
 

“Yes. In fact, I was in the building next door.” He was unexpectedly relieved to finally talk about it. “I was visiting Madeleine Price, as Dominic suggested. I’m not sure what’s been reported over there, but her parents died in the shooting.”

“Oh no. That’s
terrible
news. Does Dominic know?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes at mention of the other man. “Yes, we’ve been in contact daily. In fact, I just spoke to him earlier. I’m having Madeleine’s things packed and wanted to know if I should list the place.” Sebastian paced to the window to look down at the street. It was exactly where he’d stood with Madeleine on the day of the explosion.

Next door, the bank was closed and shrouded in scaffolding. He’d heard they would rebuild with a memorial dedication. Surviving employees were on paid leave with counselors available round the clock.
 

The shooter had worked there for less than a year before being let go weeks before the attack. He’d been volatile and unreliable with both coworkers and clients. But no one predicted he was capable of such a horrific act as the one he planned and carried out.

“What did he say?” Angeline brought Sebastian back to the present. “About selling?”

He clicked his tongue, irritated. “He said no.” Sebastian was still perplexed by Dominic’s response. “He said it wasn’t his decision to make, and as Madeleine was in no current shape to do so, then we should pack it up and lock it down until she was.”

“You sound irritated.” Angeline’s dry humor was restored. “But that sounds perfectly reasonable to me.”

A loud thud sounded behind Sebastian. The lead man in charge of the packing stood surrounded by Madeleine’s things, boxed and ready to move. Seeing Sebastian on the phone, he raised his brow and waved a hand to encompass everything. Satisfied he had Sebastian’s attention, he cocked a thumb toward the door, silently asking whether it was okay to proceed.

Sebastian nodded then turned his back again.
 

“If you saw her as I have, you would know Madeleine won’t be up to any real decisions for a long time. She’s devastated, shut down.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She needs someone to take over for now. I would have thought Martin understood that.”

Angeline was silent for several long moments. “Sebastian, I don’t want you to misconstrue what I’m about to say.”

He rolled his neck, trying to ease some of the knots that lived there. He’d rather be in the gym, working out his frustrations. “Say whatever it is you have on your mind, Angeline. You know you will eventually.” He thought he heard a chuckle, but her voice was serious when she replied.
 

“Bas, I know you want to protect Madeleine. But you can’t just charge in on your horse and make all her decisions.”

“It’s pretty obvious to me that she
will
decide to sell that penthouse, Angeline. For Christ’s sake, it’s where her parents died. And forgive me for saying so, but if I hadn’t stepped in when I did, she would be dead too.”

“My God, I wasn’t thinking. Were either of you injured?” She was all concern now with none of the previous censure.

“I’m fine. Madeleine is still in the hospital but soon to be released. Which is exactly why I called you, actually.” Sebastian was thankful to turn the conversation back to its purpose. “I’ll be bringing her to Jersey as soon as possible. I hope that works for you.”

He knew Angeline would never refuse to help someone as vulnerable as Madeleine. He also recognized they were at a delicate stage in some of their work together.
 

“Of course, Bas. But—”

“With Madeleine there it will be out of the question to bring the Russians to Jersey. That’s the last kind of stress she needs. That’s one idea off the table.” It had been Angeline’s suggestion after her meeting with him and Martin. “We’ll have to think of something else.” The door to the penthouse slammed behind the last of the movers. Sebastian paced the room, relieved to be alone.

“Of course,” she murmured. “But I still don’t think Club Hobart is a good option either.”

“We may not have any others.” He heard Angeline click her teeth. He was back at the window, arms crossed and legs braced wide as he watched the movers shut the doors on the truck that held all of Madeleine’s things. His assistant had already ordered new clothes and toiletries from a department store on Michigan Avenue. Sebastian checked his watch, deciding he would pick them up himself.

“I need you to prepare the house for Madeleine. She can stay in the guest wing or wherever you think best. You’re the hostess, so do whatever you like.” He recognized it was practically Angeline’s home now, but he needed her cooperation.
 

“Got it. Anything else?”
 

He paused, running through the details. He snapped his fingers, remembering the gardens. “Yes, get the gardener.
Today
. He needs to rip out the lilies—all of them—and replace them with other varieties.”

“But—”

“They have to go. And make sure he doesn’t plant anything red or orange.” Sebastian didn’t know enough about flowers to think of suggestions. But that’s why he employed gardeners. “I’ll explain when we have more time. Right now, we need to get things done. I hope to bring her home in a day or so.”

Sebastian could have bitten his own tongue out. Of course he couldn’t be thinking of his home, or Angeline’s for that matter, as also being home to Madeleine Price. That was way too personal. No, he was just being a friend, someone to help her until she was back on her own two feet.

“Right. Well then, I’d better get to it.”

“Right.” He’d already said enough. “Thank you, and I’ll see you soon.”

He tapped his phone to end the call. Angeline would probably be speculating about all sorts of things after his slip. But once Madeleine was safely tucked in to his private estate, Angeline would see his interest in Madeleine’s welfare was purely platonic.

He wandered the penthouse, opening and closing cabinets and closets to ensure everything was gone. Later, a cleaning crew would arrive to put on the last polish so everything would be left sparkling and lemon scented. When Madeleine was ready to sell, as he was sure she would be, they could list it without a trip back to the States.

He pulled back his shirt cuff, checking the time. There was a lot to accomplish in the coming hours, not least his next errand. He snagged the keys off the marble island in the kitchen and walked out, never looking back except to lock the door. As far as he was concerned, this was a place of sorrow and sadness. Unfortunately, it had been so since before the tragedy that took Madeleine’s parents.

He would take Madeleine away and see to it that she emerged from the cocoon she’d been locked inside for the past seven years. Then he would gladly step back, knowing he’d done the right thing for her.

In the meantime, though, it was time to pick up the remains of the two people she loved most.
 

Her parents’ ashes were ready.

***

Madeleine pulled her black cardigan more tightly around herself as the wind whipped through her hair, tangling and tossing it into chaotic disarray. Still, she chose to sit on the deck of the luxury powerboat currently whisking her across the serene surface of Lake Michigan. She shifted on her seat, craning her neck to see how far they’d gone away from Chicago in the early pre-dawn hours.

Her eyes snagged on the dark and handsome man sitting on the opposite side of the deck. Sebastian Payne was turning out to be quite the fixture in her life the past few days.
 

Or was it weeks? She rubbed at her temple.
 

Everything was fuzzy. In the hospital, time had blurred and faded, unimportant.

How long had it been since the accident?

Madeleine flinched inwardly, catching herself. What happened to her parents was no accident to be sighed over. Rather, it had been a deliberate, malicious act of murder. She would not do her parents the dishonor of trying to whitewash what happened to them.
 

Her gaze drifted to the Chinese enamel cloisonné urns sitting in a wooden box next to Sebastian. They were beautiful pieces of art in themselves, and Madeleine knew they must have cost a fortune.

She shut the thought away, to be dissected another day. It was her coping mechanism, one she’d perfected a long time ago. Compartmentalization and denial were her two greatest skills. But this, this terrible, wrenching grief she felt every waking moment was proving to be a challenge.

She looked away, only to catch Sebastian staring at her. His eyes were a deep, dark ebony. And right now they were boring into her with surgical precision.

If she didn’t already know him better, she might be frightened.
 

But now she did know him, or at least the small parts he allowed. He was a man of strict control. He was quiet, only speaking when he had something truly important to say. And even then he did so with an economy of words.

The only exception had been at her bedside in the days after her admission. While she lay there in foggy withdrawal, he’d taken to talking and talking, telling stories about meaningless celebrity news. She’d lost track of the time he spent with her, and he’d seemed to lose track of her. As the days passed he’d sprinkle in personal thoughts, as if he were thinking aloud.
 

Twice, he’d remembered things from his past. Unpleasant things, at a guess. Both times he’d murmured something about needing space and air. He’d left, only to return again hours later.

He was an enigma.

He’d arranged this outing for her. For her parents. They’d preferred cremation and wanted their ashes to be scattered on Lake Michigan at sunrise. Sebastian had badgered her until she told him their wishes.

She’d been unsure how to manage the arrangements but in the end hadn’t needed to. Sebastian had taken charge, seeing to every detail. And he’d done it perfectly, without a single hitch to concern her.
 

Madeleine looked down to the waves gently chopping as the boat moved farther from land. As usual, she was struck by the lake’s vastness. Once, she and her father sailed out so far there was only water as far as their eyes could see.
 

She blinked away the tears blurring her vision. “It’s almost like an ocean.”