Page 97 of Unmasked

How was he going to react when he answered the phone and realized it was me? How would I feel after hearing the shock in his voice?

I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.

Maybe it wasn’t so much talking to him that left me eager. It was more stabbing my knife through his and Penelope’s trust that had my fingers itching to dial the number the Sultan had given me not ten minutes prior. A number he’d almost withheld. But he hadn’t, and here I was, listening as ringing came through the receiver.

“Yeah?” Deep. Rich. The tone had me pausing as I made him wait. “Hello?”

“I thought you were dead.”

Silence.

Footsteps.

“…King Lawrence. …I can’t say I’m surprised you’re calling. Are you inquiring about my measurements? I heard your ball was going to have a strict dress code. You know, I am capable of following rules.”

“Are you? Are we referring to Vaughn Masterson,” I smiled, “or the masked captor? I’m not so sure the second cares for rules.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. What can I do for you… Your Majesty.”

I weighed the words, hearing how it barely made it through clenched teeth, but there wasn’t the satisfaction I wanted to feel.

“I want to talk to Penelope.”

Silence, but I continued.

“She’s not answering her phone. I must speak with her. She has responsibilities now as the Duchess of Rosemoor. She will accompany me so we can begin the transition.”

“Will she.”

It wasn’t a question.

My jaw flexed. “She will. It is nonnegotiable. Rosemoor is known for producing the most elite horses in the world. There are trainers, staff, and an entire economy tied to the success of its program. If Penelope doesn’t step in or take this seriously, their very livelihoods might be at risk. Rosemoor’s own prestigious reputation depends on her.”

“And I’m guessing you’re the only person in the world who can introduce her to her new duties as Duchess.”

My smile returned. “Who better than me? It’s because of me that Rosemoor is thriving. It seems only natural I’d work with her personally to ensure it stays that way.”

“Work with her?” The words were clipped. Deeper. “For how long?”

I traced my finger around the top of my drink.

“That depends.”

“… On?”

“Her. Are you going to let me talk to her or not?”

“No.”

My fingers stopped, only to begin circling in reverse.

“I’m trying to decide if you’re purposefully making this harder on her or on me.”

“I have video of you killing my men.” My lids narrowed as he continued. “I also have video of your physician poisoning her ginger chews. Chews she took for her morning sickness for our child.” A pause. “A child you are responsible for killing. And you expect me to let her leave with you again?”

Lowering my hand, I reached, picking up my glass.

“Your men were a threat⁠—”