Chapter 27
Duke
“I’m surprised how many people have shown up for Katarina’s birthday,” Calder says, eyeing the steady stream of guests entering the marquee.
We’re watching from the safety of the stone terrace that stretches across the rear of the mansion.
The drawing room doors are open wide behind us, golden drapes fluttering in a chill breeze.
Calder, Rory and I stand at the edge of the terrace near the steps that lead down to the lawn.
Below us, there’s a red velvet rope cordon to deter inquisitive guests from bringing the party into the house.
Looking more or less healed after his crash, Rory swirls the whiskey in his glass.
He’s been nursing the same drink for half an hour.
We’ve agreed to stay sober tonight, and although my brothers are unaware I’m counting down nervously to eight o’clock and our reunion with Fitz, we all know what’s at stake tomorrow.
My future with Grace is within touching distance and I won’t picture one without her.
“Our guests aren’t here for Katarina,” my brother points out.
“You know how to make a girl feel special, Rory,” Katarina says, giving us all a start as she appears behind us.
I’m reluctantly impressed at how Katarina can cross a stone floor in her lethal stilettos without making a sound. Stealth is one of the many skills she’s been trained for, and it’s almost second nature. It’s still fucking creepy.
Her hand strokes my arm and I try not to shudder. I have warmed to Katarina just a fraction, but there’s only one woman’s touch I crave.
Calder drags a smoldering gaze over her full-length, skin-tight dress covered in sequins the same crimson as her shoes and lips. “You look damn fine, Katarina.”
Danyl and Andrey have followed her out to patrol the terrace and one of them snarls.
“Please don’t talk to my future wife like that,” I warn my brother, aware this charade needs to be played out to the bitter end. I put an arm around Katarina and kiss her cheek. “Is Grace back with your cake?”
I make it sound like the cake is what concerns me, but I’d almost lost it when Len told me she’d been sent out alone on an errand.
Even under the best of circumstances, Grace shouldn’t be hanging around some deserted industrial unit, especially not looking like that.
I don’t know what magic she wove into that dress, but it took all my self-control earlier not to unpick every stitch.
“I spoke to her a short while ago,” Katarina says. “She shouldn’t be long.”
Laughter floats up from the garden, but I look beyond our guests towards the catering tent. I check silhouettes, but none snag my attention. I could text her.
“You can stop panicking,” Rory says, tipping his head to the main marquee.
Grace is marching along the path, practically elbowing guests out of the way to get inside with the cake box. I’m surprised she hasn’t gone directly to the caterers, but in truth, I’m just thankful she’s back safe.
I’m about to relax when Katarina jolts in surprise. She rubs her bare arms as if she’s simply cold, but when her gaze flicks to the ground, I know she’s deflecting attention from where she was looking, and she was looking at Grace. What did she see that I can’t?
Grace reaches the entrance where Ed waits for her. He’s sipping a cocktail and almost chokes on it as his eyes widen in shock. Had he seen something in Grace’s expression? Has something happened to her?
I go to pull away from Katarina, but she links my arm, forcing me to stay.
“Don’t,” she whispers.
Danyl’s footsteps have faded to a dull thud as he checks the far end of the terrace, and Andrey is at the bottom of the stone steps inspecting the perimeter. Both should be out of earshot, but I keep my voice low. “What the fuck is going on?”
I scan Grace’s silhouette against the white of the marquee. The golden threads in her black dress glint in the flames of a nearby heater. She doesn’t look like she’s been harmed, but I need to get closer. Something’s wrong.
And then I stop looking at Grace and notice the guest directly behind her as she talks to Ed.
His frame overwhelms Grace as he moves closer.
He has blond hair and sunglasses that, unless I’m very much mistaken, hide brown eyes.
If that wasn’t enough to make my hackles rise, the bastard puts a hand on Grace’s hip, drawing her into him.
I yank my arm free from Katarina’s hold. “Tell me that isn’t who I think it is,” I say, my voice reduced to a naturally low growl.