Sebastian Drake was exactly where Arabella had said he would be: taking afternoon tea in the Claridge Hotel’s tea room. Although Alastair had been here before, he suspected Ryker had not.
As a well-trained spy, Ryker’s curious gaze would miss nothing as he scanned the cream-colored walls with the arched openings, the columns, the elegantly set tables with their white tablecloths. Green-and-white-striped dishes were the standard place setting, with smartly folded napkins resting on the plates.
Without regard for etiquette, Ryker and Alastair made their way to Drake’s table and took a seat, halting the man mid-bite of his scone.
“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
Drake’s dark-eyed gaze darted around the dining area before focusing on Alastair. He paid no heed to Ryker, who reached across to pick up a sandwich quarter to sniff and pop in his mouth, following it up with a sip of Champagne from the crystal flute in front of him.
Alastair shrugged and straightened his cuffs. “I thought we needed to chat.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Right now, or in general? Because you and I have plenty to discuss. First and foremost, the release of Jace Fennell.”
A subtle shift came over Sebastian’s rugged features, and he sat back in his chair, a wide smile taking up residence on his face. “I’ll be happy to release him if you will take his place.”
Pasting on a bored expression, Alastair sighed. “Do you honestly think you are the first to believe they could use me as a means to gain power? I’m sorry to disappoint, but your hopes are about to be dashed.”
An ugly emotion flashed in Sebastian’s eyes. “Arabella.”
“Pardon?”
“I should have known, but who would have thought the great Alastair Thorne would send his own sister to seduce information from me.”
Ryker stilled, and a dark flush of anger colored his cheeks. Their eyes connected, and Alastair silently urged caution with a small shake of his head.
“Actually, I didn’t,” he told Sebastian in a bored tone. “It seems the females of our families all have minds of their own. But I imagine the information is no less correct.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve compiled a list of Jace’s activities that are in direct opposition to the wishes of the Witches’ Council. He’ll be tried for his crimes.”
“And what would those crimes be?”
“That’s for Council eyes only.”
Straightening the silverware in front of him, Alastair cleared his throat. “I’ll make you a deal. If you release Jace, I won’t destroy you and everything you hold dear.”
Although the blood drained from his face, Sebastian’s half-mocking expression never changed. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Thorne.”
“This dangerous game you are playing isn’t setting you up as an enemy, Drake? From where I sit, it does.”
“And it isn’t just Alastair you need to worry about,” Ryker added. “Or haven’t you heard he’s back in his family’s good graces? Did you know his future son-in-law is a Carlyle? Or that his other daughter’s husband has the power of a god?”
Holding up a hand to silence Ryker, Alastair smiled widely. “Now don’t go scaring the poor man, Ryker. I’m sure he took all this into account when he decided to screw with me.” He sobered and met Drake’s wary gaze. “No?”
His latest enemy remained silent, no doubt trying to come up with a way to extricate himself from his current predicament.
“I’ll tell you what. I’m going to give you twenty-four hours to think about it. In the meantime, my dear friend Jace should be treated with great care.” Alastair produced a business card and flicked it onto Sebastian’s plate. “My number for when you are ready to see reason.”
Without a backward glance, he and Ryker exited the hotel.
“Nicely played,” his friend murmured.
“Thank you. Now, let’s have a bite to eat ourselves.”
“Italian?”
“Perfect. Afterwards, we’ll check into our rooms.”
“You look happy, Al,” Ryker stated out of the blue.
Alastair glanced up from the papers he was currently pouring over. “To be doing paperwork?”
Ryker barked out a mirthless laugh. He lounged, a drink in hand and a leg over the arm of the club chair he occupied. His dark hair was disheveled. Lines of strain bracketed his eyes, and bitterness dimmed his brown irises to almost black. His friend had never looked so tired or acted this out of character.
Setting aside the business papers, Alastair rose, walked to the sideboard, and poured himself a drink. He sat in the matching chair next to Ryker. “Want to talk about what’s going on between you and my sister?”
“No.”
“I could use your help, Ryker, but if being this close to GiGi is going to tear you up like this, I’ll find another way.”
“I thought Thornes only loved once.” The raw, achy quality in Ryker’s voice struck a chord within Alastair.
“We do.”
“Then she never loved me, or she’s the exception to the rule.”
“She’s not an exception,” he said firmly, hoping his friend would get a clue. “She’s a woman scorned.”
“I never betrayed her, Al. Never once.”
“I believe you. She, however, doesn’t see it that way.” As he watched his friend’s outrage drain away and self-pity take its place, Alastair came to a decision. “You need to go through with the divorce. Don’t fight her.”
Ryker’s head whipped up.
When he opened his mouth to speak, Alastair held up a hand, forestalling him. “Give her what she wants. Wipe the slate clean. Then move on with your life—or at least pretend to. I know my sister. It will drive her insane. She won’t be able to help interfering with your new life.”
Amusement lit Ryker’s eyes, and he laughed. “You are an evil genius.”
“You aren’t the first one to tell me so.” He stood and returned to his desk. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
“Good night, my friend.”
“Good night, my friend,” he parroted.
The early morning light peeked through the crack in the hotel blinds and woke Alastair from a restless sleep. He wasn’t sure whether it was mostly his own problems or the problems of those around him that kept him awake the majority of the night. Either way, he’d been unable to quiet his thoughts.
Two things needed to happen today. One, he needed to put the squeeze on Sebastian Drake, and two, he needed to locate Victor Salinger as the ace up his sleeve in the event Drake didn’t want to bargain.
After a restorative shower and coffee, he removed a small scrying mirror from his case. With a wave of his hand, he checked his loved ones. All was as it should be at the Thorne estate. His children were well in their North Carolina homes. Holly and Quentin were snuggled together on their sofa, their new baby girl tucked snuggly within the crook of Quentin’s arm. They shared a look of love and returned to staring at their daughter. Little Francesca was the spitting image of her father but still managed to have her mother’s angelic perfection. It was doubtful, if they were up at this hour, their baby was being anything close to angelic.
Alastair smiled. He remembered those days.
Next, he checked on Rēafere’s Fortress, locating Aurora in the master suite. He found her cuddling his pillow close. The image made him grin, and he swiped a finger down her reflection.
She smiled sleepily and said, “I can feel your presence, darling. Good morning.”
He picked up his phone and whipped out a text. “Good morning, my love. I hope to see you in person this afternoon. So far, so good.”
She nodded after reading the message and settled back into the pillows. “Excellent.”
He smiled at how quickly she’d taken to electronics. Her fascination with the internet and her smart phone was priceless. He made a mental note to order her a laptop at his first opportunity.
Nerves a little more settled, he closed the spell that let him check up on his family and placed the mirror back in his case. Whatever was eating at him wasn’t the safety of those closest to him. He briefly toyed with the idea of summoning Isis. She’d always been quick to clue him in on problems in the past. Part of him doubted she’d be open to it this time around. He’d royally upset her when he brought Aurora back using the Book of Thoth.
The auction was due to start within the next quarter hour, and Alastair wanted to be parked next to Sebastian Drake when the bidding started for the painting the other man intended to buy. Ryker met Alastair in the sitting room of his suite, and they sent out a feeler for a smaller street, Angel Court, to test the foot traffic in the area. When the coast was clear, they teleported to an out-of-the-way spot and walked the remaining block to Christie’s on King Street.
With a shared grin, they entered the building, and Alister registered for the auction. Paddle in hand, he motioned to Ryker to hang at the back of the room until Drake’s desired acquisition was announced.
“Go time,” Alastair murmured. “Do your best to irritate him, won’t you?”
“I aim to please, Al.”
“Wait, that’s a Caravaggio. That particular painting has been missing since the war.”
“The witches’ war?”
Alastair rolled his eyes. He’d forgotten Ryker cared little for art. “The second world war. A great many works of art went missing from Berlin in May of ’45. Many believed the German soldiers were responsible for the disappearance. Others believe the works were destroyed.” He tilted his chin toward the stage. “If that painting is on the block, it’s possible others will come up to auction in the coming years.”
He shook his head and leaned forward. The woman on the canvas bore a striking resemblance to Sebastian Drake’s mother. Alastair smiled. Quite possibly a relation that the great Master had painted back in his day.
“I believe this particular painting may hold sentimental value for our dear Mr. Drake, Ryker. Let’s go see if we can’t purchase it out from under his nose, shall we?”
“What would something like that be worth at this point in time?”
“Potentially millions, if I had to guess.”
“Where would Drake get that type of money? It’s not as if his family is as well off as yours.”
“I’m not sure, but I would imagine he might use a spell to keep others disinterested. It would be the perfect way to keep others from driving the price up.” He laughed, clapped Ryker on the shoulder, and led him to the row of seats in front of Sebastian. “It’s a good thing that sort of thing can’t influence me.”
He sat a single row and one space to the left of his new nemesis with an elbow propped along the seat back of the neighboring chair. With a wicked smile in Sebastian’s direction, he said, “Fancy seeing you here, Drake.” He nodded to the painting on display. “Isn’t she a beaut? When I heard it had come up for auction, I decided I simply had to own it.”
He imagined he heard Sebastian’s teeth grind together, and he smothered a laugh. Yes, it would be fun needling the young man. Perhaps this pompous puppy would learn a valuable lesson today. In a bout of conscience, he twisted in his seat to make eye contact. “In all seriousness, Drake, I don’t believe you are a bad man at heart. Pursuing me is not a road you wish to go down. Call off your plan and release Jace, then we can sit down over a drink and discuss how to get you what you want.”
For a moment, the other man studied him, judging his earnestness if Alastair had to guess. An emotion similar to regret came and went on Sebastian’s face. “Do your worst, old man.”
“Oh, shit. Now he’s done it,” Ryker muttered.
Alastair gave Sebastian a cold-eyed stare and slowly smiled. He could see alarm edging out the confidence on his face. “Doing my worst is my absolute best ability, boy. Watch and learn.”
The auctioneer started the bidding around two-million Euros.
Alastair cut out those less serious by holding up his paddle and calling out, “Five million.”
“Bloody bugger,” Drake muttered behind him.
He must have indicated a higher amount because the price rose by a good amount.
“Ten million,” Alastair said mildly.
A low, frustrated growl sounded behind him. Again, Drake called an amount.
As the auctioneer took the time to explain more about the painting and artist to the observers, Alastair leaned back. “How deep are your pockets, Drake? I can do this all day.” He flipped up his paddle as the bidding for the painting resumed.
The price jumped up again in Sebastian’s favor.
“Going once…going twice…”
Just as the auctioneer was about to close the bidding, Alastair held up a finger to the man at the podium and turned to Sebastian. “Well?”
Color rose in the young man’s neck, and he glared his rage.
“You don’t have the money I do. Would you put your family in dire straits for a painting, son?”
“Go to hell, Thorne.”
“Very well.” Alastair raised the bid to twenty-two-million Euros as he watched Sebastian’s face. His countenance drained of every ounce of color. With a toss of his paddle on the seat beside Alastair, Sebastian left the auction.
The gavel smacked down, awarding the auction to Alastair. It was a hollow victory. But if he could trade Jace for the coveted Caravaggio, he would, and he’d be damned if Jace wasn’t going to pay him back. One way or another.
Ryker walked outside to wait for Alastair to take care of the details of the sale. He pulled out his lighter and flicked open the lid then closed it again. He repeated the action as he scanned the area around him.
Some yards away, Sebastian Drake leaned back against the building, one foot rested against the wall as he smoked a cigarette. Ryker ambled to within a few feet of where he stood.
Wordlessly, Sebastian offered him a cigarette from the pack he’d pulled from his jacket pocket. Taking the proffered smoke, he lifted it to sniff and closed his eyes. Goddess, he wanted to give in and take a drag. Why shouldn’t he? He’d be divorced soon enough, and any promise he made to GiGi wouldn’t matter then.
“You going to smoke it or make love to it?” Sebastian quipped.
“I’m debating.”
Sebastian inhaled deeply, waited a beat, and grinned. “This is my first in a year. It’s bloody fantastic.”
“I’m beginning to believe you are the devil, Drake. Your mission is to tempt others into the very thing that’s bad for them.”
He laughed and took another pull of his cigarette. “Your friend… tell him I’ll trade Fennell for the painting. But Thorne will need a bigger get if he wants me to back off entirely.”
“Would Victor Salinger be a big enough get?”
Sebastian squinted at the smoke ring he blew. “Possibly.”
“Alastair is no threat to the Council. He just wants to live out his days with Aurora Thorne.” With a sigh, Ryker tucked his cigarette into his breast pocket. “In an odd way, I think he likes you. Don’t make an enemy of him, Drake. He’s not a man whose bad side you wish to be on.”
He scoffed. “I think it’s too late for that.”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.” Sebastian threw what was left of his cigarette to the ground, rubbed his heel overtop, then bent to retrieve the butt. His attention was caught by something over Ryker’s shoulder. “You’d better go. I would bet your master keeps a short leash on you.”
“He’s my friend, and he inspires the utmost loyalty.”
“I would imagine a friendship like that is rare,” Sebastian conceded. He held out a hand, which Ryker took.
“I know how to reach Thorne. I’ll call soon.”
Ryker held onto the other man’s hand and applied enough pressure to be uncomfortable. “One last word to the wise. Stay away from my wife.”
A slow, wicked grin spread across Sebastian’s face. “I’ll bear that in mind. But maybe you should keep a better watch on her. She’s like steak to a starving man.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you compared her to a hunk of beef.”
Ryker could hear Drake laugh all the way to his hired vehicle.
Alastair joined Ryker as Sebastian climbed into the rear seat.
“I think you were right, Al. I don’t think he’s evil, just ambitious and disappointed he won’t be handing you over to the Council.”
“It’s too bad Autumn has already decided on her heart’s desire. She’d give that one a run for his money.”
Ryker laughed and scratched his bearded jaw. “Can you imagine those two in the same room? The sparks would definitely fly.”
“Who do we know that’s similar to Autumn in temperament?”
The only other snarky Thorne of equal or greater attitude to that of Autumn was her second-cousin. “Mackenzie?”
“Yes. I do believe Mackenzie would make a great match for Drake, don’t you?” He reached into Ryker’s jacket pocket and removed the cigarette, breaking it in half. “Perhaps after we settle Nash and his lovely assistant, Ryanne, we can find a way to hook up those two.”
“Never mind that you are using the term ‘hook up,’ Al, but do you really believe Mackenzie is going to sit idly by while you plan out her life with Drake?”
“No, and that’s what’s going to be fun.”
“If anyone knew the mighty Alastair Thorne was a romantic at heart, you’d be in big trouble.”
Alastair laughed and tossed the broken cigarette in the trash receptacle. “Let’s go back to Rēafere’s Fortress. I miss Rorie.”
“Shouldn’t we discuss Salinger?”
“One problem at a time, my friend. One problem at a time.”