Page 70 of Wicked Queen

“You didn’t let me tell you the rest of the plan,” she said. “While we deal with it, we have lots and lots of sex.”

“This plan is looking up.” I nuzzled closer to where she carried our child. “And a baby—which is the best distraction.”

“And a baby,” she echoed. “A distraction for the press?”

“No,” I said sharply. That thought had never occurred to me. I would never use my children that way. “It’s the best distraction for me—holding our child, watching you care for her.”

“Or him.”

“Or him,” I agreed, albeit grudgingly.

“Belle likes William,” Clara said, filling my mind with prettier thoughts than I could, “and Alice.”

“William or Alice. The baby will be here soon.” I turned my face up to her. “You were telling me that the doctor wanted to schedule the cesarean.”

“Yes, but it’s weeks away.” She waved it off. “We can do it later.”

“It can’t be here soon enough,” I said and meant it.

Once Clara had taken my anger from nuclear to simmering, I decided I couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. Anders hadn’t been located yet, but I knew exactly where the other party in question was. A little past noon, Clara laid down for a nap. I fought the urge to follow her into our bedroom and lose myself in her for a few hours.

I made it to Sarah’s room before I remembered that I’d asked Norris to place her elsewhere. Whipping my mobile out, I dialed him.

“There’s still no news,” he answered.

“I presumed when I hadn’t heard anything,” I said dryly. “Where did you put my darling sister?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I could see him, wherever he was, coming to complete attention. He must have known I would eventually hunt her down. It was time she faced what she’d done.

“Norris, tell me where she is.”

“I will take you to her,” he offered.

“You’re busy, and I am in complete control. I only need to speak with her.”

“Alexander—”

“I’ll call Georgia.” I hung up on him, which meant I was on borrowed time. Wherever he’d stashed her, he’d be on his way. I’d played the odds and headed out of the North Wing. It was unlikely that he’d put her near my family after last night’s confrontation. That limited where he might place her. The staff rooms were out of the question. I could only imagine the damage she could do spinning stories to the employees.

Georgia was on my side. I knew because she answered with three words. “The Belgian Suite.”

“Thank you.” I ended the call and stuck my mobile in my pocket, ignoring an incoming call. He wasn’t going to talk me out of going there.

I had no doubt that Sarah had insisted on the Belgian Suite, which was reserved for important foreign dignitaries, impeccably decorated, and well-secured.

If she thought that good locks would keep me out, she would find out how wrong she was. But she didn’t try to keep me out. She was waiting for me, doors unlocked.

“It took longer for you to come after me than I thought.” She sipped tea at the small breakfast table.

“Get dressed,” I snapped. “It’s disgraceful.”

“There’s our father.” Her hand cupped her chin and she stared at me like a welcome ghost. “He’s coming out more and more, isn’t he? He would have tracked me down ages ago, though.”

“You’re leaving,” I told her. “It’s up to you if you do it in your robe or not.”

She pulled the lapels of her red silk dressing gown together and frowned. “Where will I go? How will you control me?”