“I’ll pay any damages or expenses,” Conall said carelessly.
“Believe me, I’ve already got a list in progress,” Scarlet agreed. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” She handed him a letter, and a brochure.
Conall looked at the brochure first, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “A mental institution for shifters?” He looked up at Scarlet suspiciously. “Did my mother give you this?” he asked, anger already rising in his chest.
But Scarlet shook her head. “It was in the envelope with the rest of Gizelle’s information,” she said.
Conall gave her a thoughtful look. “My mother does have connections,” he suggested.
Scarlet tapped the letter, and let Conall read it without trying to make conversation he wouldn’t be able to follow.
It was from the director of the mental institution, and it was a compelling argument for Gizelle’s treatment at the facility. It was addressed to Scarlet specifically, and diplomatically questioned her capability for Gizelle’s care and the danger that she posed. But it somehow didn’t sound like his mother’s handiwork.
“This doesn’t mention me,” he finally realized.
“I don’t think they know about you,” Scarlet agreed, with a thoughtful nod. “And to be frank, if I had gotten this a few weeks earlier...”
She didn’t have to finish. The wording in the letter was very clever, complimenting Scarlet and acknowledging her care at the same time it cast just enough doubt on her capacity for truly helping Gizelle.
“A hostile takeover,” Conall said thoughtfully, looking over it again.
He looked up in time to see Scarlet’s brow furrow in confusion, but not in time to catch her words. “Sorry, what?”
“What do you mean, a hostile takeover?”
Conall considered for only a moment, before admitting, “Your staff, they’ve been getting offers. Good offers, amazing even. Like someone’s trying to poach everyone away from you. Even Gizelle, apparently.”
Scarlet’s face went dark with anger and her green eyes snapped. If she had been holding something, Conall was sure it would have been broken and he wondered if the change of pressure around them was his imagination.
“Beehag,” she said. Her clenched teeth made lipreading difficult. “He’s dying to have our contract canceled. And he’d have access to his father’s records, even if they’d been classified. That bastard is smarter than I’ve given him credit for.”
“If it’s any consolation, none of your staff are accepting the offers,” Conall told her, a little fearfully.
That did seem to settle her. The pressure eased and Scarlet seemed to soften slightly. “I appreciate you telling me,” she said gravely.
For a moment so brief that Conall doubted his own eyes, she looked vulnerable, tired, and lonely—then she was drawing herself up, face serene again. “The other matter...” she said coolly.
Conall had to smile despite himself, remembering. “I will make it worth your while.”
“Indeed.” Scarlet raised an eyebrow at her. “I will bring them by on Christmas morning.”
Conall was almost as excited for Christmas as Gizelle was.
Epilogue
The cottage was littered with wrapping paper and filled with laughter.
Gizelle was lying on the bed, surrounded by gifts. New dresses were draped across her feet, and an array of hairbrushes and jeweled combs and candies in silk boxes were scattered across the comforter. The bedside table was completely covered in bottles of every kind of hair conditioner Conall had been able to find online that would ship internationally, and several kinds of spray-in detangler.
There were leaning piles of books in a range of difficulties: lush, illustrated volumes of classics, adult-learning writing workbooks, and several instruction guides to braiding and styling long hair. There were two kits of art supplies, open to show a dazzling array of colors and mediums, and a selection of sketchbooks and canvases.
Gizelle was hugging a tablet to her chest and wearing a pair of studio-quality earphones.
“Books that read to you,” she crowed in delight. “Hundreds of them.”
“I had your friends help me pick them,” Conall told her, leaning over a precarious pile of presents to show her how to navigate. “There are folders for each person with the books they chose for you.”
“I’m going to listen to every one of them,” Gizelle sighed rapturously.