Chapter Three
Annalise
Breakfast at Winters House was a lot more entertaining than I remembered. Sophie and Aunt Amelia bickered through the meal, Amelia trying to get Sophie to give her a muffin and Sophie reminding her that muffins weren’t on her low sugar diet.
Gage leaned toward me and whispered, “They do this every morning. Amelia refuses to give up on the muffin.”
“How would you know?” Amelia cut in. She might be in her eighties, but she was sharp as a tack. “You’re usually at the office by the time we eat breakfast.”
“I know everything,” Gage answered smoothly.
Sophie smothered a giggle as Amelia harrumphed in response. “He’s spending too much time with Aiden. Thinks he’s king of the universe.”
Gage slanted Sophie a look that had her flushing a deep pink. She bit her lower lip and looked away, much to Amelia’s amusement.
Amelia winked at me and said, “They haven’t even gotten married, and already they’re acting like newlyweds.”
Mrs. Williamson came in, carrying a platter of fresh fruit, her hair in its customary twist, her dress neatly starched.
Mrs. W had come to Winters House at eighteen, not long after my parents had died, and she’d been keeping us in line ever since.
With our parents gone, she was the closest thing to a mother any of us had left.
She set the fruit tray down in front of Amelia, distracting my great-aunt from her quest for a muffin, and stopped beside me.
In an uncharacteristic gesture of affection, she gave my shoulder a hard squeeze and leaned down to place a quick kiss on my temple.
Tears flooded my eyes at the kiss, so unlike her, as she whispered, "It's good to have you home. "
Blinking quickly to chase the moisture from my eyes, I reached up to squeeze her hand before she could step away and, in an effort to lighten the moment, said, "Have you had enough of weddings yet?
Two over the holidays and another in a few weeks—if you ever leave us you could make a career as an event planner. "
Mrs. W smiled and shook her head. "I'll never have enough of weddings in this house.
With all you children moved out and Aiden working so much it was far too quiet around here.
Now, all we need is for Gage and Sophie to give us some babies.
You don't remember Winters House filled with babies. This house needs children."
With a wink at Aunt Amelia, Mrs. W picked up the empty carafe of coffee and left. Gage and Sophie watched her go, their jaws dropped and eyes wide.
Amelia sat back, picked up her coffee, and said, "Mrs. W is getting saucy."
"I think it's Abel's influence," Sophie said, quietly. Abel was the cook. He'd been with us since I was in high school, but I'd never had any hint there might be something going on between him and Mrs. W.
I leaned forward and looked across the table at Sophie. "What do you know?" I asked, my voice low. Mrs. W had eyes in the back of her head and ears like a hawk.
Proving that she was no fool, Sophie glanced over her shoulder at the empty butler's pantry before she said, in an equally low tone, "I went to the kitchen weeks ago to make another pot of coffee—bad night of sleep—and they were in the corner, whispering. Abel was holding her hand."
"That's it?" Amelia said, not bothering to keep her voice low. "I can't believe you didn't tell me. Not that that's much to tell. Hand-holding." She shook her head in dismissal.
Sophie rolled her eyes at Aunt Amelia. "Maybe for you hand-holding is nothing. For Mrs. W, that's a lot."
Gage pinned our great-aunt with a firm look. "Don't you dare start any trouble for her, Amelia. If she and Abel have something going on, leave them alone to work it out."
Aunt Amelia made a dismissive sound in her throat, and I shook my head, keeping my eyes on my empty plate and trying to hide my smile. Aunt Amelia was a born troublemaker.
Technically Sophie was her nurse, but Aunt Amelia didn't need much nursing. Mostly what she needed was a companion, and someone to keep her from burning the house down.
Amelia lived to pull pranks.
Sophie spent most of her time either assisting in Amelia's schemes or talking her out of them. If Amelia set her mind to causing trouble, we were all in for it.
Amelia sent Gage a grin and said, "Who? Me? I wouldn't dream of interfering with Mrs. W."
I let out a snort of laughter. Sophie just narrowed her eyes. "Seriously, Amelia. Stay out of it."
"Oh, I'll stay out of it. Scout’s honor."
Under his breath, Gage muttered, "Like you were ever a Scout."
Aunt Amelia just sent him a devilish smile. Male voices filtered in from the hall and I felt myself tense. Aiden, and, I thought, Cooper Sinclair. They entered the room, and I saw that I'd been correct.
Finished with my breakfast, I rose. Cooper pulled me into a bear hug. I'd known all the Sinclairs since birth. They were less friends and more like extended family, though the last thing I needed was more overprotective older brothers.
"Mrs. W is bringing coffee to the living room,” Aiden said. “I think we'll have more space to spread out there.”
He turned to lead the way across the hall to the formal living room. Cooper and I followed, Gage rising behind us to join in.
The living room of Winters House was almost as big as the dining room.
It was a formal space, filled with expensive Persian carpets and silk upholstered couches, but not fussy or overly feminine.
The high windows let in plenty of light, and the view of the gardens complemented the pale creamy walls and glossy white trim.
It had been my Aunt Olivia's favorite room in Winters House, as well as my mother's.
Aiden had an office just down the hall, by the library and wine room. It was more than big enough for the four of us. I hovered in the doorway of the living room and studied Aiden, who stared out the window at the gardens behind the house and didn't meet my eyes.
"We won't all fit in your office?" I asked, carefully.
Cooper cut in. "Evers and Knox are coming," he explained. "And they're bringing someone from our team we think can help. The gate already called up. They should be here any minute."
The boys had a plan.
I knew better than to interfere before I'd let them have their say. Anyway, nothing I’d done had worked—clearly running away wasn't the answer. I might as well see what the guys had cooked up.
If I didn't like it, I didn't have to go along.
Facing down the combined will of Aiden, Gage, and three of the Sinclair brothers wouldn't be easy, but I could do it.
Mrs. W came in, carrying a tray with the coffee pot, cups and saucers, and a plate of shortbread. Giving me a supportive smile, she said to Aiden, "A car just pulled up in front of the house."
I sat and poured myself a cup of coffee. I didn’t need more caffeine, but I did need something to occupy myself. I’d been in charge of my own life for a long time, and I had no intention of letting anyone run it for me.
The best way to keep control of the meeting was to keep my mouth shut until I knew what I wanted to say. The front door opened and Mrs. W voiced a greeting. I recognized Evers saying hello and, based on Mrs. W's light laugh, probably flirting a little.
I took a sip of coffee and waited, determined not to let the guys take over. Not to be the victim. I was here to take my life back, and I wasn't going to be bulldozed by this crew of overprotective males.
Every speck of my resolve flew out the window when he walked in.
Riley.
Riley Flynn.
Carefully, I set my coffee cup back on the tray, aware my hands had started to shake. I stood abruptly, composure gone, and met Riley’s hazel eyes.
He stared back, expression blank, distantly polite. For a terrifying second, I wondered if he even recognized me.
I tossed that idea away the moment after it flashed through my mind. Of course, he recognized me. But what the hell was he doing here? All of a sudden, nothing made sense.
My plan to keep my mouth shut flew right out the window and I demanded, "What are you doing here?"
Before Riley could answer, Cooper looked between us and said, "Oh, yeah, I forgot you didn't know.
Riley's on our team now. He's been with us for a while.
When we were considering different options to track down your stalker, Evers remembered that you two knew each other and thought he might be the best man for the job. "
I searched Riley's face for some hint of emotion, some acknowledgment that there was more between us than just two people who used to know each other.
I got nothing. It had been eleven years, and the sight of him was a knife to my heart, reminding me how barren, how lonely the last decade had been without him.
He lifted his chin in my direction, flicked his eyes over me and said, "It’s good to see you again."
"Yes," I said, inanely, "you look well."
"So do you," he said politely, lying.
I didn't look well. I was too thin, and I had circles under my eyes from stress. I looked like crap, especially compared to the twenty-year-old Riley had known.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to run through the door, lock myself in my room, and weep for everything I'd lost.
We’d been so in love.
Now, all we had was a polite, dry, exchange of greetings. It was less than nothing.
I was not going to cry.
I was not going to fall apart.
My first love was here, and he was supposed to help with this plan to draw out and catch my stalker. Fine. If it would get my life back, I would handle it.
Drawing on a trick I'd taught Charlie when we were children and trying not to cry in front of the cameras at her parent’s funeral, I stabbed my fingernails into my palm hard enough to cut skin. Hard enough for the pain to drive away my tears.
When I thought I had myself under control, I sat down, picked up my cup of coffee, and said, "So, gentlemen, you have a plan? Because I've got nothing and I'm tired of running."