I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “How is she?”
It had been less than three days since Clara had left for Silverstone. I’d been in meetings every waking moment, but nothing could distract me for long. My wife and daughter’s absence left me feeling disjointed, as though the most important parts of me had simply left. They were my heart—my conscience—and without them, nothing seemed to make sense here.
“She’s fine,” Brex said. He launched into a report about her daily activities over the last few days. I’d made him wait to make this call. I needed to break some of my bad habits. Clara wanted independence. I couldn’t pull back on her security team, especially with Elizabeth there, but I could give her space the only way I had available to me. It was a small gesture toward her wishes—and she wasn’t even aware of it.
“Do you want me to call back in a few days?” he asked.
“Why don’t you call me tomorrow?” So much for giving her more freedom. In fact, I was going crazy. I’d tried to go cold turkey and it had been too much—too fast. I was addicted to her. I was only half a man without her by my side, and an even worse king. Let Brex think what he would about me. I didn’t care.
“I will,” he vowed, “but everything is good here, Alexander. I don’t want you to worry.”
“Is there anything else I should know?” I asked him. Technically, the security briefing should cover more than my family. The opening ceremonies were scheduled for tomorrow and the first racing event for a few days later. They were tying up loose ends, and although I’d chosen not to be there—as a sign of faith to Clara—it was still my responsibility.
“We’ve got this covered. You worry about Parliament,” he told me.
We were supposed to be presenting a united front. Clara was capable of representing our family. My responsibilities rested with Parliament’s investigation into the handling of Jacobson’s case. If we were going to come out on the other side of these challenges, we would have to work together. I told myself that we were strong. We were undivided. But the truth was, I felt torn in half.
“Humor me,” I said.
“There have been very few security incidents. A few people trying to sneak in their own booze in backpacks is about the worst of it. A reporter tried to scale a fence. He broke his camera, so I think he learned his lesson.” Even over the phone I could hear Brex’s amusement. He probably questioned why he was there. There were more pressing issues to deal with, certainly, but he would never question me outright. He knew that wherever my wife was, my mind was.
“And Anderson?” It was hard to ask about my brother. It felt strange and somehow more clandestine than checking in on my wife.
There was a pause. It wasn’t like Brex to hesitate.
“What is it?” I asked. I knew him well enough to know when he was weighing his response. He’d been trained by the military to make snap decisions without thinking, reacting instantly in life or death situations. It was what made him an asset to the team. When he didn’t have a quick response, it meant something.
“He seems like a nice kid,” Brex said noncommittally.
“And?” I pressed. There was more to this. I could sense it.
“He’s thoughtful. He seems particularly considerate of Clara.”
Meaning was laced through his words, and I found my hand closing sharply over a pencil. It snapped in half.
My attention had been divided and now the last person who should have been allowed to had gotten close to my wife. Was this a part of Jacobson’s plan? He’d said my family would turn against me. But he couldn’t know about Anderson. That secret had been well kept. It had taken the CIA to uncover it. How would an MP from the House of Commons discover it?
“He is?” I did my best to sound casual, but it came out strangled.
“It’s probably nothing,” Brex said quickly—too quickly.
“How considerate is he?” I asked.
“He checks in on her. They talk. He helped her with Elizabeth today.”
“He helped her with Elizabeth today?” I repeated, certain I must have heard him wrong.
“The nanny was sick. We all helped.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. I should have sent Norris instead of asking him to clean up another of my father’s messes while everyone was away. It had been a calculated error, but an error all the same.
“And Clara accepted his help?” I asked in a strangled voice.
“She doesn’t realize,” Brex said quietly. “She doesn’t see it. Alexander, her heart belongs to you. He’s just a kid.”
It didn’t matter. He was there, and I was here. He was looking after her, and I wasn’t. He had the life I could never have—freedom I had never experienced—and this was how he—how they—repaid me?
“I’m keeping an eye on the situation,” Brex assured me.
“Let me know if anything happens.” I resisted the urge to tell him to stay with her at all times. Clara would notice if he was suddenly clingier. She would ask him why he was suddenly concerned. He could lie to her. Tell her there had been a security threat. But that wouldn’t solve my problem and would put undue stress on her while she was pregnant.
I had kept this from her, kept the truth from her, and I was being punished for my sins. Anderson Stone had the life I would never have—and now he was coveting the one thing that belonged to me, the thing that mattered. The one and only thing I would never give him.