“Bring forth the siege engines. The enemy walks amongst us.”
At the dramatic pronouncement, Sylvie turned, startled—and grinned. Pet De Vere was sitting on the window seat, perched amongst the cushions with an open laptop on her knee.
Pet winked at her. “Just straight through the front door. No army. No unicorn bombs. Not even a concealing cloak. Bold. Very bold.”
Still smiling, Sylvie walked over and leaned against a wooden beam that was crying out for some fairy lights. “You look busy.”
Pet picked up the hot chocolate at her side and took a sip, looking as if she were bracing herself to continue an unpleasant task. “Job-hunting. Always a blast.”
“He hasn’t given you the sack?”
“Amazingly, not yet.” Pet waved a hand at her laptop screen. “But it’s only a fixed-term contract, until his permanent assistant can come back.” She lifted a shoulder in an incredibly Dominic-esque gesture. “And at some point, I need to find my own place, you know? In the world, I mean,” she added, in a way that could have come across naïvely, but didn’t.
“I do know,” Sylvie said quietly. She tilted her head at the laptop. “If I hear of anything—”
“Thanks. I’ll know the right thing when it comes along.” Pet set the computer aside and stood, smoothing down her top and skirt. Her silk blouse was neatly pressed and tied in a jaunty pussy bow under her chin. “I’m guessing you want Dominic?”
There was a slightly wicked glint in her eyes, but Sylvie worked on a daily basis with Mabel. It was a far higher bar than that to discompose her with subtextual innuendo. “We have a meeting, and I thought we might as well share a ride.”
Now that the cat was out of the bag between them regarding the Albany tender—and as they were currently colleagues on set—the palace had directed one big cozy Super-Secret Cake Meeting. Bit of a switch-up from last time, but it saved everyone some time and subterfuge, she supposed.
Pet shot a quick glance around and leaned close. “The atmosphere suddenly went very sly. Is this a meeting regarding a certain commission, or is ‘meeting’ a complete euphemism, in which case, I’d like to put up a hand and say I both highly endorse this and also don’t want to know any details, ever.”
It took a second to untangle that stream of words. The genetics gods had clearly forgotten to give any garrulous genes to Dominic and stuffed a few extra into Pet instead.
“The former,” Sylvie said emphatically, eyeing her.
A rear door opened, and she sensed Dominic seconds before he appeared. Like a personal Bat-Signal. He was wearing a navy peacoat, strands of silver at his temples glinted under the lights, and her stomach did a dizzy little flip-flop.
All the surrealness and confliction aside, she’d forgotten how—fun it was, to feel that little leap of excitement, just from someone walking into a room.
When he saw her standing with Pet, his dark gaze moved slowly between them before coming to rest on her. “Hello.”
Typically guarded, but she could have sworn that a little inner light appeared in his eyes when he looked at her. As it had multiple times overnight, the sight and sound of his laughter yesterday returned to her mind.
Obviously, Dominic was handsome. He’d lucked out genetically where his face was concerned. But when he had laughed, properly laughed, for the first time ever in her presence, he’d made her want to draw in close in every way. Physically, sexually, emotionally.
As she’d said. Knee-weakening.
“Hi.” She unnecessarily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I just need to stick these in the office.” Holding up a couple of files. “And we can go.” He shot a glance at the Baroque clock near the counter. “That’s running fast again, but traffic’s horrific today, so we shouldn’t cut it too fine—”
“I can do that,” Pet said at once, snatching the files from him. “You get going.”
“I haven’t signed them yet—”
She was already gone.
“Well, she’s efficient,” Sylvie offered.
“That’s one word for it. Come on back. It won’t take a minute.”
With avid interest, she followed him back into the inner sanctum. She’d never been farther than the kitchens of De Vere’s. Unsurprisingly, even their back rooms were decorated in polar-opposite styles.
Dominic’s office was spacious, highly equipped with tech, and surprisingly messy. She was envious of the large plushy couch. She only had space in her own office for her desk chair. On the rare occasions she had time for a breather—or tiny nap—she usually lay on the floor in the Dark Forest and looked up at the fairy lights in the trees.
As she stood near the door, he signed his papers, and Pet hovered by the desk, chewing on her lip. When Sylvie had first spoken to her out front, she’d been sparkly, confident, teasing.
In here, in the quiet, it was much more apparent how Pet and Dominic changed around each other. The vibe became wary. Not at all combative—quite the opposite. Trying, but battle-wounded. She knew he wanted to connect with Pet, but it was crystal clear how badly Pet, too, wanted that bond back.
She spoke instinctively. “We’re allowed to involve our most trusted inner circle in the final bids for this contract. Why doesn’t Pet come to the meeting today as part of yours?”
Pet’s head jerked around, and Dominic looked up from the document he was signing.
Neither said a word. Sylvie realized how presumptuous the suggestion was. She still didn’t regret making it. “I’m sure she has good insight for your team.”
Pet’s eyes darted to her brother.
Dominic raised his brows. “How altruistic of you to give the competition any advantage.”
Sylvie smiled at him. “Wasn’t it?” Then, ever so slightly, she inclined her head toward Pet, who was still standing silently. The younger woman was starting to twist her fingers around her pen.
Dominic put down his own pen. “You do have good instincts, Pet, and you’re an excellent judge of character. If you could spare an hour or two and come to the meeting, I’d appreciate it.”
Her lips parted and moved silently, before an actual word emerged. “Okay.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
She hesitated a few seconds longer, and then seemed to reanimate as if she’d come off a battery charge. “I’ll just get my coat!”
The door slammed behind her, and the walls of that large, spacious room seemed to close in. Sylvie was very aware of the rhythm and sound of her own breathing.
“I should have involved her myself.” Dominic’s voice was low and deep. “Thank you.”
“She just wants time with you. To be part of your life.” She finally looked up. He was watching her very intently. “I . . .” She sought for something to say. “Um. I checked the public records for a Jessica Maple-Moore in the region of Oxford and I found her death certificate. She died almost twenty-seven years ago, of catastrophic injury. By the measure of Patrick’s age, that can’t have been all that long after the photograph was taken at Primrose Cottage.” She hesitated again. “I thought about it, and I think after the meeting with her team today, we should try to contact Rosie directly and see if the name means anything to her. I can’t shake the feeling that this is the key to—well, to understanding Patrick.”